


Of Monsters and Humans

by icestorm1196



Series: The Company [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addiction, Animals as Caretakers, Blood Drinking, Body Horror, Canonical Character Death, Castiel is called Angel, Dean isn't subtle, F/M, Imprisonment, M/M, Mentions of Past Torture, More tags to be added, Prejudice, Some sexy times, Sort of like the jungle book, Violence, Wrongful Imprisonment, f/m - Freeform, m/m - Freeform, some violence, sort of infidelity, wing fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 54,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1766665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icestorm1196/pseuds/icestorm1196
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel (Castiel) is a prisoner of the Company, until one day he manages to escape.  He flees, and finds himself trying to make a life for himself in a deep forest, away from the humans that would hurt or kill him.<br/>One day, he runs into two boys who turn his ideas about humanity on their head.<br/>He works with the Winchesters and their friends, first to keep himself, and them, safe, but soon it is a fight to the death to bring down the Company that would see him destroyed. </p><p>There is angst, fluff, squabbles, betrayal and love.<br/>And maybe some smut, but likely nothing too explicit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Escape

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read the first part of this story, this might not make much sense.  
> So, quick backstory:  
> But there is the Company, and it hunts, researches, and kills monsters. Most people don't know/believe it exists, but it does.  
> When he was three, a young boy was brought to the Company because of his wings, and he was fostered by Mary Winchester.  
> She was killed in the same way as she was in canon, leaving the nameless monster she called Angel in the hands of the sadistic Alistair, Azazel, and Lilith, who want to do experiments on him. He grows up in the Cage. 
> 
> But really, you should read the Prequel. I will be referencing it a lot.

U009WC2B lounged in its cage, fingers lightly brushing against the collar around it’s neck. It had grown from a skinny child to a thin, but rather toned man-like creature, dark hair roughly shorn on occasion, but currently brushing it’s shoulders. It would soon be time to cut it again, absently thought the young man who watched the tapes. Jaspar Howard, flicked his gaze to another monitor, where a vampire sat sullen and starving in a different cage. 

The winged creature, this, U009WC2B, for whatever reason, had always been kept separate, according to the logs and notes. They were all computerized now, though most of them had been handwritten at the time. But the winged man had never tested with other monsters, never fought with them or stayed in the same cage or even the same part of the Facility. Most of them were kept like prisoners in a jail, rows and rows of cells on several floors, but not U009WC2B. That one had always been kept far away, even from the other unknowns. Lilith, the boss, said it was for research purposes, and it had to be watched all the time.

Jaspar didn’t usually watch during its lessons. That was boring. It just read, or did sums or learned theoretical science or…something. He’d seen some of the papers, and they had been, embarrassingly, a bit too technical and advanced for Jaspar to understand. The monster didn’t get to do anything practical, nothing hands on, much as it wanted to. Jaspar had been surprised that it was allowed to read, allowed to learn, but apparently, it had been a toddler when it had come, and there had been a scientist that worked with it that wanted to see what it could do, like the chimps they’d taught to do sign language somewhere.

But Jaspar didn’t watch when it was in lessons, or when it had to do the physical tests. It was with scientists then, or Alistair, or Azazel. Both men frightened Jaspar, and he thought they beat the creature more than it strictly needed, not that the bruises or cuts ever lasted long. A few weeks ago, it had broken its arm because…well, Jaspar didn’t know. But it had taken less than two weeks for the limb to be fully functional again. It just proved that the monster wasn’t human, no matter what it looked like.

It was pale, almost translucent pale, but strong, from all the physical training Azazel insisted on. Azazel, Jaspar had noticed, often tested monsters like he was training them. Training them for what, Jaspar didn’t know, and he didn’t dare ask. Lilith didn’t look as scary as her two main trainers, but she frightened him more than either of them. 

Sometimes, in its quiet time, the monster would read. He had all manner of books, fiction and non-fiction alike. Sometimes it would reach into the small bag it kept slung about its shoulders and leaf through a children’s book, though Jaspar had no idea why. Right now though, it was just lying there, arms under it’s head, huge darkly colored wings spreading out on either side of it, taking up almost the entire width of the cage, sometimes twitching a little, as its mouth moved. Talking? Or singing? The tapes had no sound, so Jaspar didn’t know. He watched the monster, and wondered if it was terrible that he’d never seen the creature do anything considered monstrous at all, and he’d never found anything in the files to show that the creature was dangerous. It could fly, it healed quickly, and was almost frighteningly smart. But it had never hurt anyone, and it didn’t seem to consider it even. Jaspar sighed, rubbing his hand against the bridge of his nose. That sort of thinking would get him fired. U009WC2B was a monster. And an Unknown at that. There was no telling what it might do, which is why they kept it locked up, and would continue to do so until the day it died.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

“What are you?”

“A monster.”

“Name?”

“I don’t have one.”

“What does it say on your file then? What’s your serial number?”

“U009WC2B.” He wasn’t sure why they always thought he’d forget that. It was tattooed on his arm, though apparently that was because he’d been so small when they’d tattooed him. Other Unknowns had the tattoo across their chest. He also refrained from commenting that his serial number had an equal amount of numbers and letters in it, though he wasn’t sure what that would be called. A barcode or something, except that he didn’t have a chip. Or lines. He ran his hands through his hair. It was getting too long again, flaring up at the ends. They’d cut it soon. He hated it on the day they cut his hair. Alistair always restrained him, as if he’d do something stupid if he didn’t, and took a wicked looking knife and sawed at his hair until it was cropped close to the back of his neck, and Alistair always, _always_ drew blood, and he did it on purpose, without reason. But Alistair liked to draw blood. He didn’t need an excuse like a hair cut to do it He just called it ‘research’ and left it at that. 

“One of these days,” Alistair said today, “I am going to be allowed to take one of those pretty eyes of yours. You only need one.”

“Azazel wouldn’t thank you for it,” he replied. “He’d have to retrain me to compensate.” 

Alistair had jabbed his electric prod into U009WC2B’s side for that. The monster had jerked in pain, and tried to recall that brief, hazy time, when someone had called him Angel, and stroked his hair with cool, smooth hands. 

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

Two figures stood, backs to the wind, staring at the huge, ugly, grey building below. Technically, there were two prongs to the building, and three outcrops, but they were all connected by breezeways and passages, so it could be considered all one building. 

“It’s bigger than it looks?” he asked his companion.

The woman nodded, brushing her hair back into a ponytail. “According to the security guard, there’s eight upper levels, which…I thought was rather obvious, but he said there’s twelve levels lower down. He went on about permits or something, and how they couldn’t get the rights to build it too high, but they could go down easy enough, so they did.” 

The man nodded. “And what did he tell you of the monsters then?”

“Most of them are kept together,” she said. “The smaller wing there,” she pointed to an outcrop that was only four levels high, “That has the more dangerous ones, the ones that killed lots of humans. Then, there’s the main jail area, which….is something like eight or nine stories, that just holds other monsters. Ones that killed a few, or just hurt them, or that didn’t kill anyone, but only because they didn’t have a chance—he was well indoctrinated,” she said, with a little bit of disgust. “But that’s all the front half. The upper floors, the lower floors, the back…that’s all sorts of other things. Testing rooms, offices, labs.”

“Come on,” the man said, almost whining. “Did you get what we needed or not?”

The woman smirked. “I did. He didn’t want to part with the secret at first, it took more than I’d hoped but…he said there’s one that’s different, because he’s been there so long. A man with wings and an incredible healing rate is kept off to the side, apart from all the other monsters. He’s never so much as seen another monster, and he sees very few humans. He’s also one of the only creatures that the boss goes down to see herself, and he gets….well, the man said he got ‘special treatment’ from the two main ‘testers’ but he didn’t elaborate on that, so I imagine it’s not very good. Anyway. He did say that the gym is in the second building, the windowless one, and it takes up the entire building. It is literally just a gym. Well, it’s a training facility to test and record physical feats, but it sounded like a gym to me.”

The man nodded. “And the winged man is brought there daily?”

“Yes,” she said. “Usually from one o’clock to about four.”

The man nodded. 

“Are we doing this today?” asked the woman, a bit shakily. “How do we even know it will work?”

“It has to work,” said the man. “Come on. We better get started.” 

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&**&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

Azazel didn’t really drag him much anymore. The man knew he’d follow calmly, even if he didn’t take his hands off the bag. Alistair had tried to take it from him once, had beaten him bloody and broken half of his fingers, and he did not release it. Azazel had worked the monster’s wings and legs for the week or so after that, until it’s fingers had healed.

“We’ll see how long you can fly today,” said the man, snapping the collar chain to the tracked one, attached to the ceiling. “You won’t stop until you fall. Go.”

And he’d launched himself into the air, wings beating hard and fast. It was always exhausting to start from the ground, with no leverage at all. It was hard to fly in general. He’d read a book about birds once, and it had talked about thrust and currents in the air. He’d never felt anything like that, but it did make him realize how much more difficult he had it than they. He dreamed sometimes, of flying in the open air, of seeing the blue sky, the yellow sun, the green grass. He knew of these from his books, but he wanted to _see_ them. 

It was exhausting, but he flew, around and around. Azazel would make him to the aerial obstacle course soon. He always waited until his wings were faltering though. Hopefully there’d be some more time. 

Then something exploded. It was loud and close and the whole room seemed to shake. He hovered in midair, though Azazel was already grabbing for the mechanism that would force him down. The walls shook again, and something cracked. 

The air was rent with noise then, as he’d imagined fireworks might sound, but so much louder. Something fell past him, and with something akin to horror, he saw plaster drifting down from the ceiling. A small hole had appeared. Everything was shaking now, and Azazel was yelling, though he couldn’t make out the words. Huge chunks of ceiling were falling all around him now, and it was all he could do to avoid them. The chain attached to the track in the ceiling snapped, and he almost fell as the sudden weight was pulled downward. Azazel grabbed it from the floor and yanked, and he was jerked down as well. 

He might have let it happen, except he felt it. Air. Cool, fresh, unfiltered. He caught himself with his wings, and looked up. A hole in the ceiling and through it, brilliant blue. He dove then, finding the piece where the chain connected to the track-chain, ignoring Azazel’s swearing and frantic pulls. It took a few tries with shaky hands, but he couldn’t let the man drag him back to his cell, not now. He was thrown off balance again as the chain dropped, the end of it clapping Azazel on the head. He was numb, as the man collapsed, bleeding slightly from the wound above his eye. 

Everything was still shaking. Bits of the roof and the obstacle course (tires and rings and rods that would swing at him to bat him out of the air) were still falling. One struck him on the shoulder, and jerked him back to the present. He managed to get a hold of the iron bar before it fell, and he made for the hole in the roof. He only could make sense of one thought : _Get away, get away, getawaygetawaygetaway…awayawayaway…_ He burst through the roof, shaking plaster off his wings and out of his hair and beat his wings frantically, propelling himself straight up. He stared down at the scene below him, the building…that he had lived for his entire life, was much larger than he’d ever dreamed. There were two parts, connected like an H, and both were shaking, though the gym area where he had been was taking a far worse beating than the other side. 

He swallowed, but couldn’t stay to watch. He saw some people running away from the building, some crawling out new holes in the sides and jumping, before running away. Some seemed to misjudge their ability to survive the fall, others jumped from very high and still got up to run away, toward the woods. That seemed like a good enough plan to him. He turned and with a powerful beat of his wings, tried to put as much distance between him and the building as he could. 

The sky wasn’t blue, really, it was grey, heavy and thick, but it was _freedom_ and it was easily the most glorious thing he had ever experienced. Trying to figure out how to fly was rather more difficult than he’d anticipated, but if he let the wind carry him…his wings seemed to know, more or less, what to do. He was clumsy, far more clumsy than a natural bird would be, but he found that he couldn’t care. 

He was free. He thought now, if someone asked his name, he wouldn’t say he didn’t have one. He was _Angel_ again. He wouldn’t have to be cowed by Azazel, or torn to shreds by Alistair, or half killed by Lilith because she wanted to see what he could take. He let out a triumphant howl, and let the wind and his wings carry him.

**&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&&*

The man grinned from the hilltop as the woman laughed when they saw a winged shape rise from the trembling building. “We’ve done well,” he said, pleased. “The rest is up to him.”

The woman frowned slightly. “I want to find him,” she said. “To explain…”

“There will be time for that,” the man assured her. “Just not yet. We’ve done our part, for now. He’s out. But he isn’t ready yet.”

“Damn his being ready,” she said, not hugging him any longer, watching the fading form with dismay. “He needs us. And we spent so long looking…”

“And we got him out.” He brushed her hair, red as flame from her face. “And we will see him again, I promise. I got us this far.” He grinned. “You ready to trust me?”

She sighed, and watched as the winged man grew smaller.

“I trust you,” she said. 

Both man and woman shivered slightly, as each grew a large pair of wings. Moments later, the hilltop was empty, and there was no sign, not even indents in the grass, than anyone had been there at all.


	2. Survival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel has escaped the Company, but he finds himself alone in the wilderness, with very little idea about how to survive there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is sort of long, and to be honest, not much happens, though it does set up a few things.   
> Next chapter things start to get fun!

There was a town, he could see it. It lay to the south of the Company buildings, separated by miles of trees. But from this high up, he could see it. He wanted to avoid the town, like he was avoid the Company. He had to get far away from both. He panicked slightly, clutching the bag and his metal rod to him as he beat his wings. He probably didn’t need to strain as much as he was, but he was used to stale, unmoving air, and he had…habits. 

If he had grown up flying the skies, he might have noticed the slight changes in the wind, in the pressure of the air. All he really noticed was that it was getting darker, that it was getting harder to fly. He was tired, he knew. He’d been flying for a long time. He couldn’t even see the town anymore, or the large grey building that had been his home. 

The rain surprised him enough that he nearly dropped the rod. It wasn’t at all like he’d expected. The water was freezing, but all encompassing, not focused on one painful point at a time like it had been when he’d been chained to the Post. 

But the wind grew stronger, and found himself being tossed and buffeted by it. He was blown back, and when he tried to shift his wings his whole body was twisted around. He had no control, could barely even see. Thunder crashed and he could feel the vibrations in his teeth. Lightening flashed shortly after, close enough to make his hair stand on end. He tried to angle himself down, to take refuge in the trees, but the wind made it difficult to properly maneuver his wings, or to move them at all. He managed to get them down eventually, but he hadn’t streamlined his body as well, hadn’t taken into account what would happen if he closed himself in the wings without the proper form, and he started a terrifying freefall. The rain beat against him in torrents, stinging him wherever it touched, blinding him and making it difficult to breathe. He didn’t even see the tree rising up to meet him until the last moment, and he snapped his wings out in shock and instinct, to slow his descent, but it was too late. He crashed through the branches, and he heard something _snap_. He didn’t remember landing.

* &*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

Something was pressing uncomfortably into his spine. Something sharp and hard. He groaned, and shifted, but that only shifted whatever was poking into him too. And he began to notice other sharp, or rough, or generally uncomfortable things pressing against him. And _everything_ hurt. 

He forced himself into a sitting position and almost cried out from pain. He was battered and bruised, bloodied in places, but his wing had the worse of it. One was…strained and a bit twisted, but the other was clearly broken, in at least two places. He tried to move it, and then he did cry out. He bit his tongue to staunch the sound, and looked around him. He had forgotten, in his disorientation, that he had escaped, that he was _outside_ for the first time…well, ever. His pain was forgotten as he gazed around him in wonder, soft sunlight filtering through a canopy of green. It smelled fresh and clean here, and the breeze pressed fingers against his hair, dried stiff, and littered with twigs and leaves.

He went to stand, and immediately went down again, biting his lip in dismay. Right. He had to…set the limb. He knew that, but…god, trying to remember how it was done….they’d broken his bones before, but Alistair usually set it. Sometimes he wrapped it and sometimes he didn’t, depending on what he wanted to “learn.” Angel wanted to splint the wing. He could figure things out with a broken finger or wrist, but he needed his wings. 

He scoured the area around him. He’d broken many branches in his fall it seemed, some of which would do fine for splinting. He searched around for something to tie the branches in place as well, and eventually found a few thin vines, before deciding to unthread the drawstring from the trousers he wore. They were rather the worse for wear, these pants, he thought. They were torn and threadbare. He’d have to find something else to wear pretty soon. They hung low on his hips without the drawstring, but he needed it for the splint. 

This would hurt. He murmured a few comforting words to himself, before taking a thick looking branch and placing it between his teeth, then setting up a few smaller branches that he would use to splint the broken bones and keep them in place. The first two were small breaks, and he used thin, but sturdy branches and the vines. The last break was one of the bigger, ridge bones and he knew it would hurt to set. Angel took several deep breaths through his nose, trying to calm and prepare himself. _Count of three,_ he told himself. _One. Two._ and he snapped the bone in place before he could psych himself out. He tied the splint in place quickly and with shaking arms before he spat out the branch, imprints of his teeth sunk deep into the wood, and passed out. 

* &*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

He woke to a strange snuffing sound and hot air on his face. He forced his mind back to the present, the woods where he had landed after his escape from the Company. He felt something cold press against his stomach, and he twitched slightly, and opened his eyes. A huge, furry black face, with onyx eyes stared back at him. 

The bear opened its mouth and made a warning sort of growl, and Angel held himself very still, meeting its eyes with curiosity. He’d never seen an animal, not in person, not for real. How interesting, that his first animal other than humans he’d ever seen was a bear. It nudged him again, huffing out a breath. He wrinkled his nose slightly at the hot air that hit him in the face. Bears, he decided, definitely were not known for good dental hygiene. 

He wasn’t really afraid of this bear though, he saw no reason for it. If it was going to hurt him, it probably would have done so when he was asleep. He pushed himself up to his elbows, and the bear growled at him until he lay down again. He flicked his good wing slightly and the bear sniffed at it, distracted. 

The bear mostly ignored him, just shoved its nose back against his stomach, and Angel gave a small snort. It was cold, and it have tickled. He put his hand on the bear’s head. “Stop,” he said. “Tal’Nuam.” He hadn’t used that first language of him for a long time. It was easier to communicate with humans in one of their languages, but to his surprise, the bear did stop, and whined a bit at him. But it did let him up. 

Angel stretched out his good wing and let the bad one hang as the splints demanded. He’d heal quickly, he knew, he always did, but…it would not be easy until he did. His feet were soft and unused to anything but smooth ground. The woods did not seem to have anything that was smooth at all. He had no food, no water…he’d survived for quite some time without either of course, but he’d need them eventually. He didn’t really know what was safe to eat out here, or even exactly where they were in the world. America, he thought, but really, it could be anywhere. Well, not anywhere, but it was clearly a temperate climate, and that made the exact ‘where’ difficult to pin down. The bear growled at him again and pushed at him with its nose. It seemed to want him to walk, so walk he did. 

He didn’t know exactly why the bear wasn’t either leaving him alone or running him off, as the books had suggested bears did, but it seemed prudent to just go along with it for now. 

His answer came quickly. He was still wincing with every step—branches and stones hurt a _lot_ to walk upon he found. He’d never worn a pair of shoes in his life, but now he found himself wanting a pair—but he almost didn’t notice when the bear stopped, until it whined at him again. He paused and turned to see it standing near a tree. He moved pack to it, carefully trying to pick the way that was mostly dirt, and less twig, and he saw what had the bear distressed.

A small cub lay there, half covered by branched—perhaps they’d fallen in the storm? But the cub itself had been dead for at least two days, Angel judged. There were already flies at it’s eyes and mouth, and he saw a beetle scuttle away from the fur. The bear—the mother bear, he thought—seemed to be looking at him expectantly. “I can’t do anything,” he told her. “I am sorry, but…it’s dead.” 

He wasn’t sure what had killed it, but some of it’s fur did appear matted and thick with congealed blood. Perhaps it had been shot, thought Angel, and had simply bled out. He reached out to touch it, disturbing the flies and making the mother bear growl dangerously. Angel took his hand away and glanced back at the large mammal next to him. She wasn’t really watching him, but the bear cub. “It’s dead,” he told her quietly. “Tal’malprig.” The bear seemed to understand this, and he thought if she were human, it might be crying. 

But she nudged him again and this time he was following her, instead of walking at her side as she led him deeper into the forest and to a vast fallen tree, easily twice the size of the bear, even when she stood on her hind legs. Inside was a nest of sorts, leaves and moss and fur. He also found some teeth (hers? He wasn’t sure), and a claw. He glanced down at the bear’s paws, but she seemed to have all her claws intact. And this one was small…he fitted it between his middle and pointer fingers. It might come in handy. It was still sharp, and perhaps he could use it as a tool or a weapon. 

The bear definitely seemed expectant of something now. He gave a little bow and thanked her in his language, the language he’d always known and she seemed to understand. She huffed out a breath and left the den, though she seemed to expect him to follow, she didn’t look behind. He followed anyway, to a nearby bush. She poked her nose in, and when she pulled it out, she was chewing. He studied the bush and saw, to his delight, some sort of berry hanging there. They were black and plump and looked rather delicious. He reached a hand in, only to scratch himself. He frowned. That was annoying. He’d have to be more careful. Or just suffer the scratches. He was very hungry. 

The berries were good, and the dark juices ran down his fingers and his chin. His good wing twitched and ruffled in the wind, grey and black and silver feathers shaking and almost shimmering as they were stirred. Once he had eaten his fill of berries, the bear meandered away. Angel followed. It wasn’t long before they stood at a lake, clear and blue and so big Angel thought it might go off the edge of the world. But no, after a few moments, he could make out the shore on the other side, and it was only a lake, after all, not the ocean. He stepped in gingerly, his scrapped and bleeding feet immediately relieved. He bent and cleaned his hands and face, and drank deeply from the water as the bear was doing. They were upstream, which did seem the healthiest thing to do. He had no idea what went on this water, and he didn’t want to know. He’d never been sick a day in his life, but he knew that now would be a bad time to start. 

“I think I might have to give you a name,” he told the bear absently. His voice sounded loud, breaking the stillness of this place. But he felt that he must speak, at least sometimes. It was probably foolish, but he had never yet gone a day without hearing some form of language. He didn’t always speak himself, but someone did. And while the bear could understand him when he spoke in the strange, precise language, he didn’t understand her, not really. She seemed intent on mothering him, which struck him as strange. He looked human, near enough. Perhaps, though he smelled of interaction with humans, she knew he was not one? It seemed a mystery he would not solve. At least not today. He took another drink from the lake and watched as the sun danced in golden beams, shimmering like jewels on the constant, gentle movement of the water. 

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

“Umf. Stop it Mareka,” muttered Angel, burying his face in his arms. He’d been having a lovely dream. Smooth hands threaded through his hair, and someone with twinkling eyes had been laughing in delight. There was a song, too, though he could not make out the words, he had known it. 

The bear ignored his mutterings, and batted her nose against his hip again. If he didn’t move, she’d use her paws, which would probably end with him bleeding, which he’d like to avoid. Angel groaned, and sat up, glaring at the bear. “What?” he asked. She poked her nose into his neck and he sighed and got up. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’m going.” He slipped out of the tree, and snapped his wings free. 

He’d taken off the splint about a week ago, and he was reveling in the freedom. He practiced flying through the trees sometimes. It was a lot like the obstacle course Azazel had set him. When he could, he flew just above the treetops. He didn’t dare go too high though. He had no idea if the Company was looking for him, or what other humans would do if they found him. 

He knelt and moved a rock near the trunk of the hollow tree, pulling out and removing the bear claws he’d made for himself. They weren’t well made, but he was working on ways to fix them. He’d used the claw he found in the tree, and then, later, had gone back to where the dead bear cub had been, and used the claw, and the metal rod that he’d somehow managed to hang onto, even after the storm, to carefully remove it’s claws. Some had snapped, but he was still left with quite a few useable claws. He’d started with a stick and vines, hollowing out little holes on the stick and sticking the claws through before securing it with the vines. That hadn’t worked, so he’d tried the other way—shoving the claws through the wood and wrapping the whole stick with the vines. He had spaced them well that time too, and he could hold the sticks with his hands in fists so that the claws poked between his fingers and allowed him some measure of protection and retaliation against Mareka’s claws, as well as being sharp enough to pierce wood if he needed extra traction when climbing. 

Mareka was teaching him to climb the trees, as she might have taught her cub. In fact, she seemed to be trying to teach him many things, as she might have taught her cub. He still needed a better way of attaching the claw gauntlets though. So that he could use them, if necessary, but he didn’t want to leave his hands so useless. He was working on a way to secure them to his hands and wrists in a way that he could be certain they wouldn’t fall off.

He still had a bit of thread on his spool, but he knew that wouldn’t last long, especially as he had to save it. The days were getting warmer now, but soon they’d be getting colder again and he would never survive out here with just the thin Company trousers. He needed something that would warm him in the winter time. He found himself wishing that Mareka would kill a deer or something, or that he’d find one. The skins could be useful. He thought he more or less remembered how to prepare them too. He just needed to figure out how and where to start a fire. Mareka wouldn’t like it, he knew. Perhaps he’d tell her to get over it.

Angel wasn’t exactly sure where he’d landed on the name ‘Mareka’ for the bear. He didn’t remember hearing it before, but he liked it. Even if it was a made up word, it suited her, he thought. And it was easier than calling her ‘the bear’ in his head all the time. And he’d gone too long without a name himself. Even if Mareka didn’t care, Angel did. Nothing living should be nameless, to be stripped of them _selves_ in that way. 

But he had some ideas for if he could get some leather. Aside from eating meat, which he hadn’t really done much before, it would get him the deer skins. He could make trousers from them, good ones, that would keep him warm, and he could make proper gloves. Gloves into which he could sew the bear claws and still have use of the rest of his hands. Possibly he could make something to cover his feet too. They were getting more callused as time went on, but it hadn’t been that long yet, and they still blistered and cracked and bled.

He’d work on the climbing and foraging for a bit. When he brought things back to the den it seemed to please Mareka, as much as a bear could be pleased, anyway, and then he’d explore again. He had found some plants the other day that looked like they might make a passable thread, if he stripped them right, and he’d found a bird skeleton (well, mostly a skeleton) that he’d hidden away so he could clean it and use the bones. He wanted to make a stronger needle than the one he had. _that would be another reason to use a deer_ he thought. _The bones would be a lot stronger. I could make a knife or something._ He’d attempted to make a stone knife, but so far that had proved fruitless. All the stones that he could cut with other stones proved to be too brittle to be an effective blade. He could use stones to craft wood, but the only thing he’d managed to make from stones were clumsy clubs, though he was practicing his skills with a slingshot. He’d need leather for that as well. Angel sighed. He needed a deer. That much was obvious. Perhaps he’d find a kill soon and manage to skin it. Or he’d find a carcass, like the bird, and he’d at least be able to use the bones. 

He sighed, and swiped out with a claw tiredly. At lest they were still secure. For now, anyway. He was using the drawstring in the trousers again. They’d never fed him well at the facility, but at least he’d usually been fed. Unless it was one of their tests. Every year they tested to see how long he could go without certain things: food, drink, sleep. Every year he managed for longer before they inevitably had to fill him with fluids intravenously. But other than those tests or other sorts of punishments, he was fed three times a day. Never anything more than the bare minimum, but it was enough to keep him going. He wasn’t dealing with true hunger yet, but he was moving in ways he’d never really moved before. It wasn’t physical training in Azazel’s sense, and he wasn’t getting all the nutrients he needed anymore. 

“I guess that’s one thing they did,” he said. “At least most of the time. I had food, unless I was bad or they were testing me.” He sighed. “I can’t live off fruit and roots forever though.” He’d need some decent protein soon. Mareka might help him a few times, but he couldn’t eat the meat raw, he knew that much. Well, he suspected. He still had to figure out how to build a fire though. It was proving a lot more difficult that he’d expected. He’d never read much about wilderness survival, as he never expected to be in the wilderness. He knew enough about chemistry and physics that he thought he could figure it out, but he hadn’t managed it yet. 

Angel was getting better at climbing the trees, though he didn’t think he’d ever be as good as Mareka. His toes were better at finding footholes in rock than bark. He could thank Azazel’s rock wall for that.   
&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&  
The day he managed to make fire was a triumphant one in more ways than just that. He’d managed to fashion a hook out of the bird bones he’d found several days before, and he had enough twine from the string-giving plant (he had no idea what to call it, but his seemed an apt name), and he had managed to bait a fish with a worm on the string tied to a long stick that he’d propped up in the sand. His first fish. He knew that people ate raw fish. He’d read of it. The idea didn’t really appeal to him though, and he was more determined than ever to figure out how to make the fire. He’d tried several thinks in the past that simply hadn’t worked. 

This time though, with a flat piece of driftwood he’d dried, enough of a hole cut into the wood, with the grass and leaves he’d collected and enough friction and oxygen…he managed to get a spark. He had all but held his breath as he carefully fed leaves and then small twigs and finally bigger branches, tee-pee-ing them so that they would get oxygen and the smoke had somewhere to go, but soon he had a pretty decent fire. He cheered. He’d have to make sure he always had some dry sticks and leaves, but he’d be able to replicate this achievement. 

Trying to cook the fish was somewhat more difficult. He decided, just in case, he’d catch another. He re-baited the hook and replaced it into the water before jamming a sharp stick into the mouth of the fish and holding it over the fire. He had no idea if this would work or not. He wished he’d thought to get a stone or something to set the fish on, or that he had a decent knife to gut it, but he figured…he could cook it thoroughly enough that it didn’t matter. 

It didn’t take long before it was hissing and sizzling over the fire, the scales darkening. It started slipping off the stick and he tried to prop it up with another one…and then the whole thing caught on fire. He yelped and dropped it over the sand, beating out the flames, smothering them with the sand. When he pulled up the rather blackened fish, he sighed. Still, he washed the sand off in the river and ate it. He’d figure out something better, he thought, pulling the hook back in and wrapping it around the makeshift pole. Something that wouldn’t catch on fire. Maybe he could figure out something with rocks. Or wet wood, maybe.

The last thing that happened that day was that he found a good portion of a rather large animal. There was no skin, just scattered bones, but it definitely looked to be a deer to him. Which meant that soon, he might find one with skin still intact. As it was, he took a few of the bones. He could make knives or more hooks, or needles with them. Arrowheads, he thought. He could make arrows for when he figured out how to make a proper bow.   
*&*&*&*&*&*&*&**&&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&**&*&*&*&*&*&

He had been bathing in the lake when he heard the sound. The lake was always very cold now, as spring days turned to autumn. But he froze when he heard the noise, and slicked his hair back so it would be out of his face as he turned to peer at the woods behind him. Something was off, he just couldn’t quite tell what. He slipped from the water and picked up the knife he’d made from one of the deer bones. It wasn’t sharp on the sides really, it was mostly good for puncturing, but he hadn’t figured out a good way to make a knife that was both sturdy and sharp on the edge.   
All the stone knives he’d tried his hand at making were far too brittle. So he was stuck with his bone weapons, as he scanned the foliage. 

He kept low and tense, and he was glad of it when, moments later, a huge mass of fur and teeth launched out of the trees at him. The wolf was large, and seemed intent on eating him. He jabbed up with his knife, pricking the creature in the leg, which mostly seemed to anger it, but at least he had space to get out from under it. He splashed back into the water, making his way toward his new and improved fire pit. He’d used the metal rod as an anchor of sorts, and he could use it as a spit if he had to, propped up on thick branches. But he managed to grab the rod as the wolf leapt again, and he swung, hard, catching the wolf in the side and causing it to give a little pained whine. He thought he might have heard a rib crack. It growled and advanced on him again. “Tal’nuam!” he yelled. “Darebesa hami!” He readied the knife in his left hand, the rod in his right, knife ready to jab and puncture, the rod cocked to swing. The wolf had frozen immediately on Angel’s command though. It looked a bit stunned (as much as such an expression was possible) and wary, as it’s gaze flicked to the rod. Angel’s wings were flared as wide as they’d go, making him look much larger than he was. And he was bleeding from where the wolf had scratched him, breathing hard. But he looked the wolf directly in the eyes, and the wolf whined, before rolling over and baring it’s stomach. 

Angel set his weapons down and approached the wolf, pressing one hand on it’s chest and flaring his wings again. Then he moved, and let the wolf up. He needed to wash his wound and dress. The wolf gave a howl behind him, just as he finished cleaning the still sluggishly bleeding injury. He lunged out of the water, picking up the rod and knife again, but as the other wolves came out of the woods, they sniffed at him and growled a bit. One in particular seemed to hate him. Until he realized that this was the alpha, and he showed his own submission, dropping his weapons and exposing his neck. The alpha nipped at it, presumably to show Angel who was boss, and left. Angel pulled the rapidly deteriorating trousers on again, and picked up both knife and rod. He used it as a walking stick now, but he wanted to be able to defend himself. 

The wolves led him to the rocky area where they made their den. It was difficult to get to, and nearly impossible to see. There’d be another exit somewhere, but he wasn’t fully Pack. He didn’t get to know all their secrets. There were three pups that looked hungry, which, he imagined, is why the scout had tried to kill him. He knew that wolves didn’t go after humans much, but then…he wasn’t human, and he probably smelled more of bear right now than anything, even if he looked fairly human. 

He was curious though, and he let the wolf pups climb over him and bat at his wings. He always batted back. 

It was later that afternoon when one of the scouts let out a howl that had the wolves in the den’s ears pricking. Angel followed them when they left, though he only managed to keep up with them if he flew. An elk stood near a little stream Angel hadn’t seen before. It was drinking calmly, but when it saw the wolves it panicked. It must have heard them, Angel thought, but that didn’t matter, because the wolves were attacking from all sides. One got in the way of the elks powerful kick and went flying. Angel came down from above, cracking the creature in the head, under the antlers, then again on the side of the neck. It gave the wolves the opportunity they needed to go for the throat.

The elk went down rather easily after that. The alpha would have eaten his fill then, but Angel stepped in. He needed the skin. The wolves could wait for a bit while he took at least one of the sides. He tried to convey to the alpha that he wasn’t going to eat before him, nor take any choice meats, he just wanted a bit of the hide. The bits that tasted nasty, he tried to explain. The alpha didn’t like it, growling and advancing on Angel. He sighed. Fine. He’d just wait. He’d use the other side, he thought. He backed away and let the wolves rip into the creature.

They had eaten their fill eventually, and taken what they wanted, so Angel approached the grisly scene and shoved and heaved until he’d gotten the massive elk flipped over. That was probably gross, and the squishing between his toes was definitely not mud. He tried not to gag. He was about to get a lot bloodier. As an afterthought, he removed the trousers again. They were not holding up very well as it was, and he didn’t need to get blood on them. Especially not elk blood. That would just make him smell like prey. 

It took him a few tries to figure out how to skin the thing without a proper knife. He eventually settled on a puncture and pull technique that was effective, but it took him a long time. The sun had gone down completely by the time he had a big enough piece. He didn’t really want to see the elk now, but he sawed off a few bits of meat for himself and found the trousers and rod again. He didn’t really want to pick them up with as bloody as he’d managed to get. It defeated the purpose of removing them in the first place. But he decided that a few spots of blood were different than being totally covered, so he set on his way.

The next several days involved cleaning and drying the leather, beating it into something like submission, and figuring out how to make trousers from it. He made a little loincloth first, from some of the scraps, just to see how his needle and thread held up. He used the rest of his thread, but he managed to use the string from that string-plant and some of the reeds from the lake to make a strong enough substitute. The bone needles worked better, and in the end, he had a rather patchwork skirt with an extra bit at each end so he could knot it around his waist and be sure it wouldn’t fall off. 

Better than nothing, he supposed. But it was time to try the pants. He used the company trousers as a guide, though he made the leather outlines bigger and longer. He had just enough, in the end, to make a proper pair of trousers. What he wouldn’t give for a proper knife, he mused, grimly. But, by the end of the fifth day after the elk, he had a lovely pair of elkskin trousers. He hoped they stayed that way. He had no idea if he’d treated it long enough, or if he’d done it right. 

There wasn’t more than scraps left of the elk-skin, but he did manage to rig up a half-glove. He sewed the wood piece holding the bear claws into two pieces of leather, then worked several more scraps together until he had something similar to brass knuckles, except made of leather, wood, and bear claws. It only went partway over his hand, though he did make it fit around his palm. And this way, his hand would still be open to do other things, but he could keep the claw on. At least, on one hand. He’d go back to the elk and see if there was anything left. 

Or any of the wolf. Wolf-skin, he thought, could be useful in winter trousers. Rabbits too, but it would take more rabbits than wolves.

The elk was gone, not much left but bones and a few scraps of rotten meat, but the wolf it had kicked hadn’t gotten far. It wasn’t one that had come to investigate Angel, but it had met a rather rough end, which saddened him. It too was partially eaten and decomposing. It wasn’t so bad if he held his breath. He really needed a proper knife though. He gagged his way through his task of skinning the creature, and though he washed out the skin as best he could, it still rather smelled. He rolled it in dirt and leaves for a bit too, then took it back to the lake. 

He walked as far downstream as he could that day (he didn’t want to do the disgusting task of cleaning out rotting skin and clinging bits of meat in the area where he drank his own water) before drinking, then washing himself, and finally, the wolfskin again. He rubbed it in the sand as well, then back in the water. He stretched it out in the sun, and for two days, waited for it to dry. 

He took the skin back to the hollow tree den he still shared with Mareka. It was safe and warm here. A place where he knew he could relax enough to open his worn little bag and pull out a waterproof children’s book that had secret, fading pictures stuffed against the bindings to prevent them getting stolen or wet. There was a dictionary, though many of the pages were ruined by water, and there was a fantasy novel that he had been reading when he’d escaped. He looked through the photos often. He didn’t remember taking any of them, but he remembered Mary. He touched her face with a finger, and sighed, closing the book and putting it back in the bag. It would come with him when he left Mareka in the spring. 

She didn’t help him much anymore, but she didn’t bother him, and he hadn’t bothered finding a place of his own in the forest yet. He would wait until after winter. He had a feeling he’d need her warmth to stay alive, especially if he was still struggling to create clothes for himself that would fit.   
*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&&*&*&*&**&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&&*

 

By the time the first snow fell, Angel had succeeded in making some basic coverings for his feet, finishing the bear claw cloves entirely, and coming up with a way to ensure he didn’t get _too_ cold when he ventured outside. He’d taken the wolf pelt and cut it into several strips. Four of these he ensured would fit over each thigh and shin, before cutting up the Company trousers, and using the fabric to make ties. He could tie the wolf skin over his legs. The leather, mixed with the pelts, was fairly warm. Warm enough anyway, though he still didn’t have anything proper to fit over his slim torso. His wings did keep some of the chill away, when he had them wrapped around him like a cloak. 

He had managed to improve his knife and he kept it sharp. Mareka was actually out at the moment, leaving heavy footprints in the snow. She’d go back to sleep before long. She’d probably just get a drink and try to find a fat squirrel or some winter berries. Angel took to following her because she was very good at finding things to eat. The wolves were good at it too, and he still accompanied them on hunts at times. But today was for Mareka, and he followed her silently. If he had too, he could catch something she’d scared toward him, or he could frighten something toward her. 

It worked well, their unspoken system. Angel was following behind as usual, when something caught his eye. A glint in the cold winter sun. He ducked behind a tree and peered out carefully. It was definitely still there. He slipped closer, barely breathing. When he saw what it was, he did stop. 

A human, gun in hand, lining up a shot. Angel glanced to where it would land, though he already knew. Mareka. “No!” he yelled leaping at the man as he pulled the trigger. The shot went wide and Angel landed on top of the man, knees over the human’s chest, knife at his throat and claw glove inches from his eyes. 

Something about those huge green eyes though….was very familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Any guesses on who this green-eyed hunter is?
> 
> Yeah. 
> 
> Anyway, Dean and Sammy in the next chapter. There will also be plot! Plot and fluff. And probably some UST.
> 
> Enochian Meanings:   
> Tal: N  
> Nuam: Continuance  
> Malprig: Life  
> Hami: Creatures  
> Darebesa: Obey
> 
>  
> 
> Here I have used the phrase Tal’Nuam to mean ‘no continuance’ or ‘stop.’ I couldn’t find an exact translation so I improvised. Sue me.  
> One source told me that Malprig meant ‘life’ though it is probably one of many that means that, so I just did the same made-up thing where I made the ‘n’ the negative.


	3. Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel meets Dean and Sam!  
> Also fun times at breakfast.

Chapter 3  
Dean

Dean stretched out in his bed, relishing the warmth of the covers. Usually he’d be anxious and concerned, but Sammy had arrived back in town yesterday, and he’d be here for the rest of the month, before going back to school. Sam was in town and John wasn’t which meant things would be a lot calmer than last time. John had left two days before Sam had returned. Dean wondered if he’d done it on purpose. It didn’t matter. He’d gotten to see his dad, and John had left him a great new gun as an ‘early birthday present’ and now he’d get to spend some quality time with his brother too. Last time there had been a lot of fighting, with Sam and John almost constantly at each other’s throats. Dean had escaped to the woods almost daily, just to try and stay out of it. He wouldn’t have to do that this time.

He could relax, and Sammy would relax, and there’d be beer and movies and snowball fights. He hummed, plans running through his head. Something crashed from the kitchen and he sighed. Right. He’d forgotten about Jessica. Sam had brought a ‘friend’ from school. Both of them swore up and down it was just because her parents were in Egypt for winter break, and that they were just friends, but Dean could see through that bullshit. Especially if she was making breakfast. She wasn’t sleeping in Sam’s room, but that didn’t mean much. It was Bobby’s house. Sam wouldn’t do anything stupid in Bobby’s house. Not again anyway, there had been that one time with his little brother’s on-again, off-again evil girlfriend Ruby, but that had been four years ago now.

There was another clatter from the kitchen so Dean sighed, and, though reluctant to get out of bed, pushed away the covers and shivered in the chilly air. He really needed to see about getting his window properly sealed up. He was sure there was a crack somewhere that let in freezing air, no matter how high the heat was. He had taken to sleeping in socks just to avoid his feet freezing off when he woke up winter mornings. 

He pulled on jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt, layering it with a short sleeve shirt and an over-shirt of dark blue cotton. He made his way down the stairs, yawning loudly. “What’s for breakfast?” 

Jessica cocked an eyebrow at him. “What are you going to eat? I have no idea,” she said. “I’m making French Toast and eggs for me and Sam.” He reached out with a fork to steal an egg and she whacked him with a spoon. “Hands off Winchester,” she said. “You want some, make your own.”

“Aw,” he whined. “But yours is so much _better_.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she said severely.

“I don’t wanna go anywhere. Will flattery get me eggs?” He batted his eyelashes and flashed her his patented charming smile.

“Not even,” she said, shoving him a little. “And Sam is only getting food because this was the bet.”

“The bet?” When had they made a bet?

“I lost the Mario Party Game last night,” she sighed. “We were over at that Ruby girl’s house. I didn’t drink, because I was DD, but I lost, so instead of having to do the truly horrible shot, I have to make breakfast for the winner. Which happened to be Sam.”

“Who else was at this party?” asked Dean, a bit suspiciously. 

“I know you don’t like Ruby,” said Jessica, “and honestly, she creeps me out too. But she behaved perfectly. No one got too smashed and she was polite. She did grab Sam’s ass, but Pamela at school does that too. It’s sort of grabbable.”

“Uh, ew,” he said. “I don’t need to hear about my brother’s ass.”

“What about my ass?” asked a bleary Sam.

“Nothing!” cried Dean.

“It’s grabbable,” said Jessica at the same time. 

“Dean wants to grab my ass?”

“No!” howled Dean, and Jessica cracked up. But she put three plates of Toast and eggs on the table, and he grinned at her then. “Aw, I knew you liked me.”

“Actually, I just fee sorry for you,” she said. “Sam says you couldn’t operate your way around a kitchen if your life depended on it.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “I just…don’t, if people are around to do it for me.”

“And if they aren’t?”

“Cereal,” chimed in Sam. “He orders take out or makes cereal.”

“Traitor,” muttered Dean.

“Ingrate,” was the retort. 

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“Would you guys just shut up and eat your damn food before it gets cold?” demanded Jessica. Both brothers laughed, and Sam nudged her shoulder, but they did as instructed. 

“Jesus Jess,” muttered Sam. ‘If I’d known your eggs would be this rubbery I’d’ve made Dean do it.”

“Hey, you didn’t ask for _good_ food, you just asked for breakfast. I never said I could cook,” she pointed out. 

Dean laughed. “She totally out-lawyered you there,” he said.

“One, Lawyered isn’t a word, and Two, I am not a lawyer yet,” sniffed Sam. “I have two more years of school before I even start to consider law schools.”

“And I’m not gonna be a lawyer anyway,” said Jessica. “I’m studying biochemical engineering.” 

“Jesus,” muttered Dean. “How do you survive all these smart people Sammy?”

“I’m smart too,” replied Sam.

“Is everyone at Stanford as smart as you Jess?”

“Not hardly,” she sniffed. “A lot of people wish they were though,” she added, with a wicked grin. “Including Rapunzel over there.” She jabbed at Sam with her fork. 

“You like my hair,” muttered Sam, flushing.

“Like it? It’s better than mine,” she said. “And longer than half the girls in my major.”

“So it’s jealousy.” 

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night Sasquatch.” 

Dean smirked. “Good one,” he said. They exchanged a high five, leaving Sam looking rather pained.

“What did I do to deserve this?” he asked. “To either of you?”

Dean was about to respond, when Bobby stomped in, gun in hand, looking pissed. Also cold. But mostly pissed.

“Fuckin’ animal got into the Yard again,” he said. “Wrecked a car pretty good.”

“What sort of animal?” asked Dean. “How could it wreck a car?”

“And….you know. Why?” added Sam.

“There’s been reports of wolves and bobcats and things,” said Bobby. “They’re comin’ closer to town ‘cause the bigger predators are takin’ up their huntin’ space. There’s tell of a bear.” He glanced at Dean, raising his eyebrows. 

Ah, thought Dean. Definitely more to this bear than met the eye then. He could tell Sam later, but Jess…Jess didn’t know about the monsters. He gave a sharp nod to Bobby. There’d be a hunt later then. Whatever this ‘bear’ was, it was likely something that escaped a few months ago when that weird earthquake or whatever it had been hit the area. Bobby had pointed out the Company once, said his mom had worked there. Dad said it was the work that had killed her. 

But monsters had escaped recently, and several had made their way in the woods. As far as he’d heard, the Company was collecting them all up as fast as they could, but it wasn’t proving to be all that effective. But he knew these woods, at least, he knew quite a bit of them. He could find this ‘bear’ (black dog, maybe? Shifter of some kind?) and put it down.

He finished his breakfast and geared up to go. Jess wanted to get a head start on some reading, so Dean pulled Sam aside and told him to gear up. Sam had nodded, and told Jess he was going out with Dean for a bit. 

They slipped as silently as they could through the woods, keeping their distance from each other. That way, if managed to off-put one of them, the other would be able to sneak up on it. 

He hid behind a tree, his knife out and ready as he saw Dean carefully take cover and line up for the shot. He didn’t see what Dean did, there were too many trees in the way, but at least if it came toward him he would be ready to defend himself. 

There was a sudden noise and a shot, startling a flock of birds and making something close by growl, but Sam’s eyes were fixed on Dean, and the winged _thing_ holding him down, gun out of reach.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&**&*&*&*&**&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

Dean immediately tried to launch a counter attack on the person or thing that had dropped him so suddenly (and seriously, where had he come from, the sky?) but was frozen by the fucking _claws_ in front of his eyes, and the hand at his throat. He went cross-eyed for a moment, trying to get a measure of the claws, though his attacker didn’t seem intent on mauling. 

He…or it…did seem to be bare-chested though which was very odd. Who the hell didn’t wear a shirt when there was snow on the ground? He tried not to look too cocky, but Sam would kill the thing in a second or at least, get it off him, so he couldn’t really help it. That is, until it whipped it’s head around so fast Dean thought he heard a crack and launched something directly at Sam. “Sammy!” Dean screamed.

“He is unhurt,” growled the—Dean guessed he was a sort of man. What sort of cloak or whatever was he wearing though?—but his voice was….incredibly low and deep, almost a growl. “Merely not going anywhere. “ He turned his fierce, ice-blue gaze on the younger boy whom was currently pinned to a tree with the slightly improved dagger piercing through his parka. He’d dropped his own knife.

Angel gazed at it curiously. He’d take that, he decided. The knife would be useful. “Why are you attempting to harm Mareka?” he demanded to the familiar looking green-eyed man under him, pressing the claw-glove slightly into his face. Not enough to bleed, but it would scratch. 

“Who? Look, there’s a monster in the woods and it’s causing some panic in the town and we thought it might be a shifter or a black dog of some kind. I don’t care if you don’t believe me, that’s the truth.”

“There is a monster,” he growled. “It is not what you think.”

Dean swallowed, still trying hard to focus on anything but the claws and mostly failing. “Look,” he said. “It’s hurting people and destroying things so we have to kill it before it does some real damage.”

“It harms _no one_!” he all but snarled. “It harms no human, doesn’t leave the woods, it hides and protects itself, no more.”

“Well it’s forcing the other animals out and _they_ are causing damage which is just as bad. We…we won’t kill it then, if you don’t like that um. Dude.” Seriously, what was this guy? Some sort of freaky monster lover? 

“Dean…” Sam’s voice was uncertain. 

“Seriously,” continued Dean, ignoring Sam for the moment. He was fine apparently. “We’ll just…take him to that Company place, they just sort of research the monsters there, no one gets hurt.” 

The fear that flashed in the man’s eyes was unexpected. “No,” he whispered. “No, you can’t. “ His hand twitched on Dean’s throat.

He heard Sam’s voice. “We won’t tell,” he said frantically. “I promise. We won’t tell anyone, and you can just….do your thing, so long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“I’ve never hurt anyone!” the man said, angrily, turning to look at where Dean assumed Sam was. “Not ever in my life. I never fought back, I stopped asking questions. I will not be sent back there.” He looked, from Dean’s perspective, by turns furious, terrified, and determined. But he was also unbalanced, which is all Dean needed to twist and shove the man off of him. 

Dean was up in a moment, but so was the man that had attacked him. And he saw clearly just what he had been talking to the whole time. It wasn’t a cloak, but wings stretching from his back. He wore what looked like mostly fur pants and possibly leather shoe-type coverings on his feet, and nothing on his torso, which was red and blue with cold. His hands had what looked like crude leather gloves, each fashioned with the claws Dean had been so concerned about. The creature moved suddenly, and came up with Sam’s knife. He didn’t hold it at a threatening angle, but he did hold it ready (if unpracticed). 

“I will not go back,” he said, firmly. 

“We won’t make you,” said Sam hands up, though he posed no threat, pinned as he was. “Just…tell us what you are.”

“I’m nothing,” he retorted. “Just a monster. They never figured out what I was.” 

Dean and Sam glanced at each other, slightly disbelieving. “You’re joking. How long were you there? Were you new?”

“There was never anything _but_ there,” he said backing away. “Just their cages and their testing. For my whole life. And now I’m out and I will die before I go back.” It didn’t sound dramatic when he said it. Just…factual. 

“And you haven’t hurt anyone?”

“No. And neither has Mareka.” He gestured, though the bear was gone. “I haven’t encountered any monsters in these woods,” he said. “None but me, and no one’s killed things or gone to town that shouldn’t have. I didn’t realize it was so close,” he added, unnerved. 

“It’s not. It’s a few miles away. Can you…let me down?” 

“No. Your….Dean you called him? He can. So long as he leaves the gun there.” 

“You know what a gun is?”

“I’ve read,” he said. “And seen pictures. Let…Sammy? Down. And then you will leave. And not come back.”

Dean wasted no time in getting his brother down. Sam actually smiled at the winged man. “I’m Sam,” he said, getting an incredulous look from both Dean and winged-monster alike. “This is my brother, Dean. Who are you?”

Sam and Dean. How interesting. Mary’s sons had been…he stared at the two boys more intently. Yes. It could be a coincidence. Or he could be looking at Mary’s son’s grown up. The thought was….shocking. He stepped backwards. “Do you have a name?” the younger one, Sam, asked again.

“…Angel,” he said, after a lengthy pause. “I am called Angel.”

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Bela sometimes wished she didn’t owe the Company so much. She had all but sold her soul to them it felt like, but her contract wasn’t up with them yet. She couldn’t just leave. And she had to do everything they said. 

She remembered Angel. She remembered Mary’s coddling the boy, remembered talking to him in French and teaching him Frere Jacque. And the Company had lost him. To be fair, the Company had lost one-third of their monsters in the earthquake. She still wasn’t sure how natural it had been. There wasn’t a fault around here, really. Not that she knew of, anyway. And it had been _so_ localized. 

But it wasn’t her job to ask questions. Well, technically, at the moment, it was her job, but not about natural or unnatural phenomena. Just the monsters. They’d had people in the area before, just looking, but only one creature had not been caught. Lilith had been certain that U009WC2B had gotten quite far away, and had sent people combing the woods and towns. But the man Bela answered to, he thought the monster might not have gotten quite so far away. So she found herself in the town closest to the Company, but not on Company property. They owned a small compound where most of it’s workers lived, but Bela knew that Mary at least, had lived here. And this is where her boss thought Angel might be hiding out. _No,_ she thought. _Not Angel. The monster. U009WC2B._ Giving it a name had been a mistake. Even in her head. 

Bela straightened her shoulders. She’d just stay for a few days, ask around. If no one had seen anything she’d be able to tell pretty quickly. 

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Angel had to admit…it was a little improbable that he’d meet two brothers called Sam and Dean. They’d even be the right age to be Mary’s children. Well. He supposed the only way to find out was to ask. 

“Are you by any chance…the children of Mary?” he asked. He had no idea what her last name was though he imagined she had one. Most people in his books had last names. 

Dean did a double take, before smoothing his expression out, though he’d already rather given himself away, thought Angel.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded. “And how do you know our mom?”

“She used to…teach me,” he said. “And she convinced….others to do the same. Before she…” he didn’t remember exactly what had happened to her. She’d just…stopped coming. 

Sam shoved Dean’s shoulder a little. “Dean…”

“Shut it,” he muttered back. Something was stirring in his mind though. A story. He remembered telling stories to Sam about a boy with wings. He vaguely remembered demanding Mom to tell him stories of an Angel. Or had that been his name? Were the stories based on a real…John had said that Mary worked with monsters, he thought vaguely. Was it possible that this was one of them?

“I have pictures,” Angel offered, after a moment. “Just…don’t try to kill anything, please. I promise you that nothing here is a danger to your home.”

Dean was still…wary, but Sam was interested, and pointed out that while the creature could have killed them easily, he hadn’t. 

“Maybe he’s waiting till we get back to his lair,” muttered Dean. 

Sam had just given him a patient look. “Look,” he said, “if he was going to kill us, he has already had ample opportunity. He saw me coming at him with a knife and all he did was pin me to a tree. Through the hood of my parka. I mean…that was a great shot. I think we can trust him.”

Dean hadn’t really wanted to, but eventually he did follow the other two. The…monster, Angel, had tucked his wings around himself again, sort of a makeshift coat or something, and was leading the way through the snow. 

“Mareka…the bear, she lives here,” he said. “So I’m going to ask you stay here,” he said. “I’ll get the photos and bring them out to you. I can make her understand some things, but she won’t like humans in her den.”

Dean didn’t like that either, staying where he lost sight of Angel. But the other man returned in fewer than five minutes, with a bag held tightly in his arms. The bag was dirty and weather-stained, but mostly well-maintained. Angel pulled out a book. 

“Goodnight Moon?” asked Dean. “Seriously?” Angel just looked at him, and Dean went a little red. “Okay. Sorry.”

Angel opened it and held out a picture of the woman, handing the book to Sam. “The pages are waterproof,” he said. “If they could have, they would have taken everything. I didn’t let them, but I didn’t want to ruin the photos.”

 

Sam stared at the pictures, showing them to Dean as he leafed through the book. “That’s…that’s you,” he whispered. “Dean you’ve got the same picture in your room, the one of all of us.”

Angel shifted. “She gave them to me,” he said, suddenly a bit terrified that they’d take the pictures away from him. He held out his hand for the book. “I proved to you that she knew me.” 

Dean was still staring at the photo of the small boy with grey wings and his mother, the boy looking confused, blue eyes wide and blue and guileless, and his mother, part of her head cut off by the top of the photo, smiling with one hand curled around the child. 

“So. You’re about my age then,” he said, a bit faintly. 

“I….suppose,” said Angel. “I…I remember she said her son was about my age. “ 

Dean nodded, thinking, and Sam handed the book back. “Do you mind if…if I come back sometime?” Sam asked. “I want to take some pictures with my phone of the photos mom gave you. After the fire…we don’t have much left of her.”

Angel considered this. “You won’t bring people after me?” he asked. “I won’t have to go back to the Company?”

Dean shook his head. “Hell no.” He sounded angry. “They had you in there when you were fucking _three_ ”

“I…yes.”

“I thought the Company only keeps dangerous monsters locked up.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I was there for as long as I can remember.”

“You never left?” asked Sam, a bit stunned. “I mean…never?”

“No,” replied Angel, patiently. He’d thought that was obvious. Hadn’t he said that before? “I had never left the building until the earthquake.”

“You never even went _outside_?” Dean’s voice was incredulous and a bit higher than usual.

“I _said_ that,” replied Angel, a little testily. 

“Right,” said Dean, quickly. “Sorry. But…dude, if we promise to keep your secret…we can come back? To…talk or whatever? You can’t have met too many nice people,” he grinned, a little weakly. “And our mom liked you. She told me stories, when I was a kid. The boy with wings. He was always saving me.” 

“I have never saved anyone,” replied Angel, confused.

“In the stories,” explained Dean. “I’ll tell you one, next time. But…we should probably go now. We’ve been gone a while and Sam’s girlfriend’ll be wondering where he’s gone.”

“Jess is not my girlfriend,” protested Sam.

“The lady doth protest too much,” teased Dean.

“You know _MacBeth_ ” asked Angel, cocking his head.

“Dude, _you_ know _MacBeth_?” asked Dean, incredulous. 

“Of course,” he said. “I have read all of Shakespeare’s plays. I like Chekov’s better. Though…his are better if you read them in the original Russian,” he admitted.

“You read _Russian_?” Dean was feeling fairly mindblown. 

Sam shoved him. “Dude, just cause he keeps the pictures in a baby book does not mean that’s his reading level.” 

Dean flushed. “That isn’t what I….dude! I didn’t…” but really, he sort of had. The monster had never left his cage, why would they teach him to read? And other languages?

“I was told it was your mother’s doing,” said Angel, calmly, un-offended. “She thought I might be intelligent, and so she convinced-“ he swallowed, not liking to think about Lilith and the others, “those in charge that I might be taught. That research of monsters involved seeing what they were capable of, which included learning. She thought because I was young, they’d have a better chance. Even when she…died, they took her advice on that. I learned how to read and write, and math and theoretical sciences. I wasn’t allowed to do experiments.”

“And…did you have like, weapons training?” asked Sam. “Just they way you took us down was impressive.”

Angel shook his head. “They wanted to see what I was physically capable of, so they did tests. Coordination, balance, agility. I merely had to learn, when I escaped, how to apply that. I…am still learning.”

“So. Um. Why don’t you have a shirt?” Dean had been wondering this for a long time, and the question just bubbled out. Sam looked annoyed. Angel simply tilted his head in slight confusion.

“How could I?” he asked. “There is nothing that could fit over my wings, and no way to fold them up enough to work through fabric. I had a blanket for a while. It was warm. They burned it years ago though, which is why I started carrying the photos with me.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Don’t you…aren’t you cold?” 

Angel shifted uncomfortably. “I’m…coping,” he said. “I can survive quite a lot. They tested that thoroughly. “

Dean wanted to…well, he wasn’t sure. Ask more questions. Help. Do _something_. “We…We’ll come back, yeah?” he asked. “Just to check up. Make sure you know. Things are still cool.”

“I will check with the wolves,” said Angel. “If it is they who are causing trouble in your town, I will make sure they stop. But…I do not think it is them. They have plenty of game in the woods. And they would not hurt a human.”

Dean wanted to know how he was going to ‘check’ with the wolves but he figured that question could wait for another day. 

By this time, Angel had walked them back to the clearing where they’d crashed into each other and Dean picked up the gun. He’d have to clean it really carefully to make sure it was alright after so long in the snow. 

“See ya Angel,” he said with a little grin. “We’ll come back.”

Angel watched as two human backs disappeared through the trees and wondered what, exactly, had just happened.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Yeah, this chapter was supposed to have more in it but...it was already getting kinda long and I found a viable stopping place. It is getting cut into two chapters now.


	4. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas time!   
> The boys get to know Angel a little bit more, someone is looking for an escaped monster, Bobby has a full house and does not trust that Sam and Dean are just out for 'walks' in the woods.

Angel had gone to the wolves. He didn’t see them as often as he did Mareka, though he’d given them names, mostly after characters from the Jungle Book. He’d told them that if it was they going to town, that the humans would put a stop to it. He didn’t understand the Bagheera’s response, but he took it to mean that either the message was received or that the wolves weren’t going anywhere near the town. Either way, he had at least warned them to be careful. They’d follow his advice. He hoped it would be enough to protect them.   
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Bobby was surprised when they came back empty handed after being gone so long. Sam went to go make a few excuses to Jess, and Dean stayed behind and tried to come up with an explanation that would satisfy Bobby.   
“I don’t think there’s a monster in there Bobby,” he said. “Wild animals, yeah, but we had to go crazy far to find traces of anything dangerous. There wasn’t any sign that they were coming out of the woods either.” He furrowed his brow. “If it _is_ a shifter, maybe it only wants you to think it’s in the woods? To avoid suspicion or something.”

“You think there’s a monster in _town?_ asked Bobby, incredulously. “Do you _know_ how many wards we have around this place?”

“Ward can be broken or changed or…ways found around them,” pointed out Dean. “And maybe whatever is causing all the damage was here before the Wards were put up, or before they were strengthened. Or maybe whatever it is isn’t affected by the wards we have. I don’t know, we’ll keep looking. Just…whatever it is isn’t in the woods.” He’d hate himself forever if it turned out that Angel was lying. But Sam trusted him, and Dean…found himself doing it too. Trusting a monster was never a good idea, but….Angel didn’t seem like a monster to him. Just a man with wings. 

Bobby was rather unconvinced, but he didn’t argue it further. He’d strengthen the wards against every evil thing he knew of, and he’d keep an eye on Dean. And Sam, he thought. Sam had been with Dean the whole time. And there was definitely something they were not telling him. He’d raised the both of them. He knew when they were lying.  
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Angel is surprised, when Dean proves to be as good as his word and returns to the wood the next day. “Sammy has to spend the day with his _girlfriend_ ,” he said, grinning. “Because she spent all of yesterday studying, and he spent it here, so he’s gotta take her to a movie or something today.”

“Oh,” said Angel, eyes wide. “Is that how it works?”

Dean chuckles, and Angel thought the sound was one of the best things he’d ever heard. “Nah, not really,” he said. “They say they aren’t even actually dating, but…I dunno. I see the way they look at each other. If they _aren’t_ dating, they definitely should be.”

Angel considered that, and nodded slowly. “Then I suppose it is good that they spend time together. “

“Oh!” said Dean, suddenly. “I brought you something.” He swung his backpack off his back and balanced it on a smallish fallen tree that didn’t have any snow on it. He pulled out a rather colorful woven bit of cloth. Angel looked confused, so Dean explained. “See, there’s a hole here, for your head,” he pointed, “and then it’s kind of open at the sides but it’s better than nothing. It’s a poncho. I got it in Mexico. Or…Bobby did anyway. It’s _from_ there.” 

Angel carefully pulled the poncho over his head. It allowed his wings freedom, he noticed, but if he tied it somewhere, it would offer him a decent amount of warmth as well, and if he had to fly or fight, he wouldn’t be cold. He looked to Dean with shining eyes. “I…thank you, for this gift. It seems the sort of thing that Mary did for me.”

Dean swallowed. He wondered if his mother was the first…the only person to offer him any sort of kindness. He didn’t really feel comfortable asking though, he didn’t know Angel well enough. “It’s nothing,” he said, brushing off the thanks. “I figured…you gotta be cold and you don’t really have…anything. I bet we could find something that works even better, if you wanted to give it a try.”

Angel smiled at Dean. “Thank you,” he said again. “This will do wonderfully, Dean. It is…more than good, really.” And it was. He was feeling warmer already. Dean seemed happy with that.

“I can bring other things too,” he blurted, causing Angel to look up, confused. “I mean…blankets. A…tent or something, Jeans. Shoes. I mean, if you are going to be living out here, why shouldn’t it be in relative comfort?” 

Angel stared, more than a little confused. “Why would you do this for me?” he asked. “We don’t know each other.”

Dean shifted a little. ‘I dunno. I just…want to help.” Mary had seen something in this strange person worth helping. Worth protecting. Dean wanted to honor her memory. I wasn’t sure how to best put that into words, but helping Angel felt like the right thing to do. 

“Alright.” Angel didn’t really believe him, but…that was alright for now. “Come,” said the winged-man. “I should have some fish in the trap now. I can cook you lunch.” 

He’d figured out how to leave traps for small game, like fish and rabbits slowly. Weaving nets from lake-plants and ferns, making snap-traps with branches and twine. He checked all of his traps once a day. If something else got to his game first, he figured that they had a right to it. Other creatures needed to eat too.

An hour later, they sat in a small outcrop near the lake, snowless and actually sort of warm, as the rocks protected them from the wind and the fire crackled merrily. Both had a fish, perfectly cooked. Dean had shown Angel how to properly gut the thing, and Angel used the knife he had taken from Sam. Dean wanted to say something about that, but Sam could get another knife and it didn’t seem like Angel had much of anything.

“So,” he said, conversationally, gnawing on a bit of fish. “If you were in the Cage for all that time, how’d you manage to keep things with you?”

“I thought I explained…well. They would give me a pair of new pants when my old ones got too old to wear. But when I was…fifteen years in the cage, I…I grew more frightened they would start to actually take away the things I held dear. They’d already burned the blanket. I had a few things I never wanted to lose. The photos. The first book I learned to read. And the dictionary that taught me many English words.”

“You didn’t know English?”

“Well, I was merely a child when I was brought there. I spoke a different language. One I have not forgotten, but can’t recall learning it. I think I always knew it. But no, I didn’t speak or read English, but I understood it. Anyway. I wanted to keep the photos, and those two books safe all the time. “

“What do pants have to-“

“I’m getting there. I had things I wanted to keep safe. I was allowed two books-other than the first two, that I could have at any given time. When I finished one, I’d be given another. One fiction and one non-fiction usually, though that changed sometimes. But I didn’t want them taking things from me so, when I noticed that my pants were too short, I asked for the next pair, but they didn’t give them to me. I decided…well it hardly mattered, so I simply took off the pants and made a little bag out of them. I had a bit of thread and needle that Mary had given me years before that I hadn’t made much use of…Anyway, at some point, I suppose they had had enough of that particular…insubordination, and they gave me a bag and a new pair of trousers and after that, I managed to keep the bag with me at all times.” 

Dean laughed. “Dude, I can’t believe you did a nudist strike all by yourself and it got you what you wanted.”

Angel shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t like I had any privacy at any time anyway. There were cameras everywhere, showing every angle of every room and corridor in the facility. And, since they were throwing a lot of resources into figuring out just what I am, I had more cameras on me than most. Modesty was not really an issue.”

Dean was quiet, thinking about that. That sounded…well, everything about Angel’s life sounded awful to a point it didn’t even bear thinking about. 

“This place…” Angel sighed. “It’s wonderful. It’s open and peaceful and there’s no schedule but that I’ve made for myself. There are no cameras and no tests.” He smiled at Dean then, and something in Dean’s stomach clenched, “And I have met someone that I can talk to that does not have any ulterior motives or intent to cause me harm.” 

Dean offered a small smile, but the confession had disquieted him some. Well. He’d prove Angel right. “I’ll make sure you never go back to that place again,” he swore.  
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Bela was almost finished in this town. No one had seen anything at all, as she’d suspected. The monster wouldn’t stay close. He was intelligent, she remembered that. He’d get as far away as he could. She looked up at the faded sign. “Singer’s Auto Salvage’. There was writing underneath it, but it was too worn to make out. When she knocked, the bearded man that opened the door seemed to fit the place perfectly. 

“Hello,” she said, as if she hadn’t done this a thousand times. “I’m Bela Talbot. I work for a group that has a vested interest in protecting…” she smiled and gave a little giggle, “well, _your_ interests.”

“I ain’t selling,” the man, (Singer, she assumed, said, a bit suspiciously. 

“Oh no,” she said quickly. “You misunderstand.” And that was part of her script too. “Like I said, we want to help. There’s a dangerous animal that recently escaped. A monster, if you will.”

“Oh Lord,” sighed Bobby. “You work for that Company, don’t you.” 

Bela hadn’t expected him know about that. She blinked, faltering. “Ah. Yes,” she admitted. “The earthquake a few months ago? Some of our…research subjects escaped. We’ve rounded up all but one,” she added quickly. “He looks like a man, but he isn’t one. He’s got wings. Big and…dark colored. He’s quite dangerous.” 

“Haven’t seen him,” said Bobby gruffly. 

Another man, younger, and _god_ was he tall, came in from the kitchen, with a young blonde woman, both pink faced and a bit wet from snow. “Sam,” said Singer, “in any of those long walks you take, you ever come across anything weird?”

“What? Why?” he asked. A bit too quickly. 

Bela narrowed her eyes, filing that reaction away. “A monster,” she said. “Looks like a man with wings.”

The tall man, Sam, seemed to school his face. She doubted she’d have noticed, but she had twenty years of experience learning to tell when monsters were trying to hide their feelings and people were not that different. “Wings? No, I haven’t seen anything like that,” he told her.

“Well,” she said, smiling, though less pleasantly, more predatory, “I’ll leave my card. I’m staying at Missouri’s Bed and Breakfast. Call me if you see anything?” Singer took the card and nodded, before closing the door in her face. Bela waited until she was off the property before pulling out her phone. “Sir?” she said. “I think I’ve found something.” 

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Bobby was growing suspicious. Dean was always leaving, sometimes early in the morning, sometimes around mid-afternoon. He always was back several hours later, and if Bobby needed him in the shop or to take care of something at the Yard, Dean did it, either before or after his walks. Sometimes Sam went too, if Jess was busy or they needed to take a break from each other. The boys always came back with red cheeks and bright eyes, almost vibrating with excitement. 

According to the Winchester boys, they were simply ‘taking a walk.’ So, Bobby was suspicious. Dean had never been one for ‘walks.’ If he went into the woods, it was for a hunt. But he wasn’t doing that now. He and Sam would go into the woods, usually with full backpacks and often as not, come back with empty ones. 

Rufus, down at Turner’s Hardware, said they were coming to the store pretty often too, buying lumber and tools, among other things. “Aren’t they a bit old for forts?” he asked Bobby, who had grunted, and made a note to confront them about it soon. There was an old Trapper’s Lodge in the woods, pretty far in actually, a good four miles in, and it wasn’t easy to get to, but he sort of thought they were maybe fixing it up. If hunters needed a place to stay, the cabin could be a viable option. At least, that’s what he hoped they were doing. Maybe they’d tell him when they were done.  
That’s what he told himself. And he _had_ to believe it. At least for now.   
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One day, about three weeks into their acquaintance, Dean told Angel that they wouldn’t be coming the next day. “It’s Christmas,” he said. “It’s sort of expected we spend the day with our family. And right now, that’s Bobby.”

Angel had nodded doubtfully. He understood the basics of Christmas, sort of. He’d read the bible. And he’d read a few books that had characters that celebrated it. He was a bit unclear as to what the actual _point_ was, but he knew that people wanted to spend time inside with fires and trees or something. And family, that was always stressed, if Christmas was mentioned in a book. 

So they wouldn’t come on Christmas, but the day before, they stayed for an extra long time and helped him move his meager supplies from the tree den he shared with Mareka to the Cabin that the three of them had been fixing up to be somewhat livable. They’d at least fixed the floor, and yesterday, they had put up something Dean had called ‘insulators,’ and some new siding on the outside walls. The window was still broken, and the door hung off it’s hinges, but they’d bought him a little lamp that, when he pushed the button on the bottom to ON would fill the room with a bright white light that made it very easy to see every part of the room. 

“It’ll help you when you read,” said Dean, smiling. Several days ago, they had given him what they called an ‘all weather sleeping bag,’ that had an extra lining so in the winter time it was very warm. It was also, according to Dean, waterproof and it had a little hood that you could quite literally zip yourself inside so that absolutely no part of you would stick out. It was an odd pattern of greys and greens and browns, and Dean said it was so if you ever were out in the woods and you couldn’t find shelter, you could zip yourself fully inside and people couldn’t see you well. 

Angel pointed out that it was snowing and also, he’d be in the cabin, but Dean had shrugged and said, “it’s still warm and we haven’t figured out how to get you a battery operated heater yet.” They’d given him lots of gifts to the point where he was overwhelmed and tried to give them back.

“No,” said Sam, firmly. “It’s not too much. Everyone should be able to live comfortably and you are no exception.” In the weeks proceeding the move to the Cabin, they had given him a sturdy duffle bag, three pairs of jeans, six pairs of sox and a pair of boots (they were a bit too big, as they were Dean’s), a belt, as many pairs of underwear as socks, another poncho, a few blankets (some light and some heavy) something that Sam called an ‘egg crate’ but was really a big piece of foam that was easily rolled up, with raised bumps in the foam that created a softer surface to lay on than the ground, the lamp, and three new books. Some of these supplies had been moved into the cabin already, but most of them could be put in the duffel.

Dean stared around the cabin. “We need to get you a chair,” he decided. “Or a box. Something to sit on at least. Maybe some food too. You shouldn’t have to be fully dependant on….Oh!” He shoved Sam’s shoulder then, causing the taller man to lose his balance and glare at his brother.

“What?” he grumbled. “And don’t hit me jerk.”

“Don’t be such a bitch,” Dean retorted. “But we should see if Eliot is still trying to sell that old camping grill thing he has.”

“Oh!” Sam’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. Angel,” he said, turning to the winged man that had been growing steadily more confused as the conversation wore on, “There’s this guy we know selling this like, camping stove. We’d have to make a firepit for you, but then we could put this metal grate thing over it, so you can lay meat or whatever on top without having to worry about it falling into the fire. He’s also got these long iron fork things that you can stake things on to hold them over the fire, like you do with the sticks, except the iron bars done catch fire. And he was also selling this grill thing that you can put on top of the grate to cook other things that might otherwise fall through the slates. It’s great.”

Angel’s eyes widened. “You’d do that for me?”

“That one we’ll call a Christmas present,” said Dean, grinning and clapping him on the shoulder. 

“I don’t have anything for you,” said Angel, doubtfully. 

“I want to meet the wolves,” said Sam, automatically. “I’ve always been fascinated by them and…you said before that they listen to you.”

Angel considered this. “Alright,” he said. “For your Christmas gift, I will take you to meet the wolves. I will inform them about it first, so it will be in a few days.”

“It’s okay, you won’t be getting yours for a few days either,” said Dean. “I wanna meet the bear. And…uh. Apologize for almost shooting her.”

“She won’t understand that,” he said. “The apology, I mean. She will likely fear you because you are human, but she will recognize my scent on you and be less likely to run.”

“Why don’t they run from you?” asked Sam, curiously. “I mean, you look pretty human.”

“I suppose I do not smell it,” said Angel, with a tiny shrug. “In all honesty, I don’t know. But the animals of this forest have never treated me as human.” 

Sam nodded, thinking. Dean kept forgetting that this was not a man, but a monster. “You don’t have a problem with iron, right?” he asked, suddenly wary.

Angel only sighed. “The nails we’ve used have been iron,” he said. “I have no problem with silver or blessed materials either. Or salt or anything else. I told you, I’ve had all the tests done to figure out what I am.”

Sam glared at Dean, who did have the grace to look a bit guilty. “Sorry. I wasn’t…it’s not like I was gonna turn you in or anything. I just didn’t want to give you something that might hurt you.”

Angel smiled. “It’s fine Dean,” he said. “I don’t mind. When you get back, I was thinking…we can protect the cabin with the sigils you know. Probably mostly on the inside. Or…” he tilted his head. Possibly the outside too. Maybe there is a glamour that will make this place look uninhabited. “ He’d only seen three humans in these woods, including Sam and Dean, but he was still nervous about discovery. 

Sam nodded. “Sounds good. We’ll see if we can dig something up. But…we should probably go for now,” he admitted. “It’s getting late, and it will take us a while to get out of here, especially if we are gonna avoid leaving tracks. “

“Goodbye then,” said Angel.

Both brothers smiled back.  
“Bye dude,” said Dean. “And Merry Christmas.”  
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Christmas at Bobby’s was a simple affair. There was a tree, sparsely decorated, just lights, no baubles, a star at the top. There weren’t any stockings. But there were several brightly wrapped packages under the tree. 

It would be interesting with Jess there, really, but he liked her, and it might be nice to have someone besides the three men around. 

They’d all agreed to wait until after breakfast to open presents, and Jess and Bobby had worked together to make a rather impressive spread. There were eggs, bacon and sausage (and for once, Sam didn’t complain about it not being turkey bacon, whatever the hell that was), and pancakes (regular, blueberry, and chocolate chip) and of course, coffee. There were bagels and toast too, and a fruit salad. 

Dean, naturally, had some of everything, and was quite stuffed and pleased by the time everything was done. Jess and Bobby decreed that since they’d made everything, Sam and Dean could put everything away. Dean’s insistence that he was the oldest and therefore should be managing was unheeded and Jess threatened to slap him with the batter covered spoon if he didn’t clean it. So he did. He did not dare call Jess’ bluff. 

Once dishes were clean and put away, the four of them reconvened in the sitting room. 

Sam shoved his newspaper wrapped gift into Dean’s hands first, grinning. Dean rolled his eyes, but tore in, eagerly. It was…a sock monkey hat. He raised his eyebrows at Sam’s laughing. But this was tradition. They gave each other a silly gift and a more legitimate one. Dean thrust his own gift at Sam. It was sweet pea and cherry scented shampoo and conditioner. “For those silky locks,” he told his brother, grinning.

Bobby had rolled his eyes at both of them. Sam and Dean had pooled their resources to get Bobby a computer and router, complete with a year of internet service. He’d gotten pissy and gruff, but Dean pointed out that it would be so much _faster_ to research without having to go to the library. And Sam had told him that he could buy rare old books on Amazon if he wanted and also cool relics on ebay and that had satisfied Bobby a bit. 

Jess got a thick bracelet from Sam, silver with a Sumerian charm carved along the outside and a Latin one on the inside. She didn’t have to know what it meant, but it would protect her from a lot of things. She loved it and favored him with a kiss on the cheek which made him go red.

Dean joked he should have gotten Sam a pack of condoms which made him go even redder and shove Dean off the couch and onto the floor. Jess snorted at that.

“You deserve that,” she said. “You don’t have to be rude.” He gave her a slightly chastened look, and gave her his present to make up for it. 

Dean had been rather at a loss as to what to get Jessica, so he’d ended up giving up and asking Sam what to do, and he said Jess was interested in languages, so he’d gotten her something called Pimsleur that was a slightly cheaper version of Rosetta Stone that could teach her French. “If you already know French, I left the receipt,” he said. “You can exchange it for Italian or Russian or…I dunno. Greek or something. Whatever you want.” 

Jess smiled and thanked him. She gave both of them their presents at the same time. Dean received a new set of wrenches “for when you’re working on the cars,” and Sam a biography of Thurgood Marshall and an Ansel Adams photography collection. Dean teased him about that, but Sam hit him with the photography book and it hurt enough that Dean stopped teasing and started thinking about how the sharp corners of hardbacks could be used to decapitate a vampire.

Jess gave Bobby a book on Celtic lore, because she’d noticed his book on Roman myths and some of his other cultish-looking books on the shelves and thought he could use one on the Celts. It was an old book, if not a very rare one, but Bobby was pleased anyway.  
Bobby gave Jess a biography, some scientist that had done something….awesome in the field of biochemistry. Dean didn’t get it. Bobby had also gotten her an iron ring that had a cross on it, and that thrilled her. Apparently, she’d seen something similar once, and had described it, but was unable to find it again. Bobby had found it, it seemed, though he made it out of Iron not steel or whatever the one she’d liked was made out of, because, he reasoned, Iron would be a lot safer for her. He had had the inside coated in the steel though, to stop it from having a chance of turning her finger green. Or she might not wear it. He’d been warned about that by the seller, girls not wearing rings or jewelry that turned their skin green. 

He got Dean a very nice bottle of _very_ nice whiskey, and Sam an iPod. Dean’s mouth had fallen open at that, but Bobby said shortly that the whiskey had been damned expensive too, and he’d gotten the iPod for sort of cheap so Dean could shut it.

Jess had insisted on Christmas carols, which was sort of horrible, as none of them had very good voices and Sam and Dean didn’t really know any Christmas carols anyway, and kept singing the wrong words. 

Sam helped Bobby set up his computer and router and Jess started reading her bio-book, and Dean felt a bit at a loss. He wondered what Angel was doing. Reading maybe. Sitting in his cabin with that worn and slightly mildewed copy of the Hobbit that had been with him when he’d fled the Company. Or maybe he’d be at the lake right now, seeing if his nets or line had caught anything. 

Dean sent a quick text to Eliot (who answered right away, that yeah, $75 would be great and arranged a pick up for noon the next day), and then lounged on the couch. He dozed until Sam woke him for lunch, which wasn’t big, just sandwiches, but apparently, dinner was going to be huge. Which Dean doubted because no one had been cooking all day.

Sam rolled his eyes and reminded him that they’d be going to Ellen’s for dinner, and Dean had been forced to confess that he didn’t even remember that Ellen was back in town. She and her daughter had left years ago, after her husband had died, and he’d heard she’d set up a restaurant somewhere in the middle of the country. 

“She’s back now, has been for about a month,” said Sam. “Dude, have you been paying attention at _all_?” No, not really. His thoughts were in the woods most of the time, surrounding a strange man that his mother had known and even, if her face in the pictures were anything to go by, loved as one of her own.

To Dean’s dismay, he found they were all expected to go to church too, before dinner. Bobby told him to stop whining because it wasn’t as if this was something new. Christmas they always went to church, but Dean had rather hoped to get out of it this year. No such luck.

Still, as they learned of angels singing about glory to baby Jesus, he thought of another Angel, and wondered if he’d like church. The music, maybe. He needed to play Angel some music sometime. He could bring…a walkman or something. He didn’t really pay much attention to the rest of the service, planning out how he was going to take Angel his Christmas presents.  
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Angel was a little anxious, as he had been (though didn’t remember) the day before Mary had come back from her maternity leave. Would Sam and Dean return? They did, and Angel breathed a slight sigh of relief. He had been nervous yesterday, pacing, before finally going to the Wolves and telling them he’d be bringing some humans around and they were to be nice and say hello, and then going to Mareka to tell her the same. He hadn’t slept well, even with the sleeping bag and cabin and egg crate. 

But Sam and Dean came today, lugging what looked like quite a heavy bit of equipment. He took it rather easily, and both looked at him in surprise, as he lead the way to the lake. He had a fire pit. He didn’t need another so close to the cabin. They showed him how to work the grill and set up everything. It looked amazing. Angel was quite pleased with it. Food, he thought, had just gotten easier to cook. 

Dean had also brought him a rather silly looking hat, and Sam had rolled his eyes, but Angel decided he liked the hat. “Sam gave it to me as a gag gift,” Dean confided in Angel.

“Who gagged?” he asked, horrified.

“No like…a joke. We always give each other something we know we’ll never use. But…It’s sorta cute and I figured…you could use a hat. Most of your heat goes out through your head you know.” And Angel had put the hat on his head so seriously that Dean had a difficult time not laughing. “It suits you,” was all he said, though he did grin.

Sam had brought a few books as well. “You can borrow them,” he said. “They’re mine, but I don’t read them much anymore.” There was the complete Lord of the Rings, Dean noticed. And a few lore books. “I didn’t know what you knew about how to protect yourself,” he said. “So I brought a few books on it.” 

Angel had smiled, and set them reverently next to his other (few) books, near his bed. He’d also used the staple gun to pin up the Polaroid’s their mom had taken, noticed Dean. Right next to his sleeping bag.

It seemed that Angel was as good at his word as the Winchesters, because he took both to meet with the wolves that very day. They’d sniffed at the brothers, growled and postured a bit, but soon went back to ignoring them, choosing to roughhouse in the snow a bit, or lay down, watching. 

Mareka was even less interested than the wolves, staring impassively at both before letting out a gruff growl and padding back in her den to go to sleep. “She sleeps a lot in winter time,” said Angel apologetically. “She doesn’t really hibernate, but she does sleep a _lot_.  
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The next few weeks, they fell into a pattern again. Sam split his time between Jess and Angel, Dean, between Angel and the shop. Bobby remained suspicious.   
One day, at one of their Winchester-less lunches, he asked Jessica about it. 

“You know where those boys go?” His mind kept going back to Bela Talbot, the Company worker, and her belief there was a monster around the area. He asked her if it bothered her that Sam spent so much time away.

Jess though, just shrugged. “Not really. He sees me all the time at school. He talks about Dean a lot though. He misses him. I figure he just wants to make up for lost time.” She grinned. “Plus, he’s all mine when we go back to California. I’ll let him have his fun for now. I think they’re making a shelter or clubhouse or something. For summer when they go camping. Sam told me about it, a little. And really, it makes me feel better that they’ll have somewhere safe to be when they’re out in the woods all night.” 

Bobby wished he could share her optimism. Something kept niggling at him though, just under the skin. Something was off about the whole situation. And soon, he’d figure out what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one got away from me too. I am seriously veering away from my outline!  
> But I think that's okay, in the end. 
> 
> I don't think that the Harvelle's or Missouri or Rufus or anyone will play a big part in this story. I'll use people's names from the show as sort of...surrounding characters, but we'll mostly focus on Bobby and the boys, Jess, Ruby (yes, I'm getting back to her soon!) and Bela for now. And we'll bring the baddies back of course. But we'll see. This story has a way of writing itself it seems.
> 
> Un-beta'd. Loosely edited. Characters are not my own.


	5. Seasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seasons come and go. Things start changing. Some for the good, some....not so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. I went on vacation, and the wifi was spotty at best....and my computer totally fried on me. So. New computer now, but no microsoft office, so we'll see how typing everything in a google doc goes, haha.  
> Anyway, this chapter is split into two parts. This part is fluffier, next part expands on some drama in this one, and things really start rolling. It got away from me a bit.

When Sam went back to school, Dean still tried to make time to head over to Angel’s little house every day. Angel showed him more of the lake, and sometimes the wolves showed up, though they didn’t like Dean very much. 

Angel took him to a small cave he’d found, flying him over the water at the mouth of the cave to the rocks beyond it. The cave went far deeper than it looked, considering how small the mouth of it was. Angel had to hold Dean tightly against him to avoid dunking him in the water.

According to Angel though, the water here wasn’t that deep, only about thigh high, but it was _cold_ right now. But Angel wanted to show him the shallow pool in the back of the cave, lit by some strange luminescence and oddly warm. 

“You think it’s an alien spaceship?” asked Dean, staring down at the slightly green and glowing water in fascination. You couldn’t see it from the mouth of the cave at all.

“More likely a mutated strain of algae,” replied Angel. “I know there are a lot of bioluminescent plants and animals deep under the sea. It is possible that a bird or seeds or something managed to carry it to the river, and it flowed in here. Or possibly it has something to do with pesticides, though I’ve never noticed any of the fish here looking particularly unhealthy.”

“Fish?” asked Dean, but then he saw one. It was long and blue and almost cat-fish looking, but the mouth and color were wrong, and it was thinner than most catfish.  
“What’s that?”

“I am unsure,” admitted Angel. “Like I said, it is a beautiful little pool, but I am really not sure about how it works. “

“Can I touch it?” asked Dean, leaning closer.

“I don’t know,” said Angel. “I have, but…I also don’t think I can get sick. I know for a while, at that place, they were testing me by injecting strains of various viruses and diseases and such into my food. One time, I became a little uncomfortable; more tired and listless, but I’ve never been ill.”

“They tried to _kill_ you?” asked Dean, horrified.

“No, just see if I’d react the way a human would to disease. I did not.”

“Still,” said Dean, looking a bit ill himself. “That’s sick. That’s…royally fucked up. God, what is those people’s _damage_?”

“I don’t…they didn’t seem broken to me,” was the slightly doubtful reply.

“It’s a figure of speech dude. It means they are some truly sick puppies.” He saw, in the green glow of the pool, that his explanation was as confusing as the original statement, so he quickly added, “You know. Insane. They are seriously disturbed in the head. Psychopathic.”

“I’m a monster Dean,” said Angel, rather kindly, as if Dean were a child that didn’t understand something obvious. “They are human. It is me that is…wrong.”

“No!” said Dean, standing abruptly, forgetting the low ceiling and smashing his head against it. Angel jerked forward as Dean dropped to the ground again, hand on his head. “Ow, fuck. But anyway, see? You were all worried and shit just there. You care about people and you are crazy smart…like, how many languages do you speak?”

“A lot.”

“Yeah, anyway. You are nice and smart and _good_ and those guys…I don’t care what you are, what they did was wrong. Any way you cut it. I don’t care if you killed a thousand people, they shouldn’t torture you.”

“Doesn’t your father hunt monsters?” asked Angel, uncertain.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t turn them over to the Company either. He just ganks ‘em. They kill humans, he kills them back. It’s fair that way, and also, sort of self defense and mostly painless for them. He’s quick about it.”

Angel nodded, and dipped a finger in the pool. “It’s warm,” he informed Dean. “If you wanted, next time we could bring something to put the water in so you could test it and see if it is safe for you to touch.”

“Nah,” said Dean, grinning. “That’s more Jess’ gig. I’m cool that you just showed me.”  
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Winter slowly faded into Spring, and with it, Dean brought a slightly lighter poncho than the woolen one he’d given Angel for the winter. “Cause it’s still sorta chilly, but if you wear the wool you’ll die of heat exhaustion or something.” Angel thought that was unlikely, but he accepted the gift anyway. Sam didn’t come back for Spring break, which made Dean a bit sad, but Angel pointed out that according to Dean, Sam’s school was very far away and it would be hard for him to come back for such a short amount of time. It didn’t make Dean feel better. 

They didn’t go back to that pool later, but Angel knew all sorts of fascinating spots in the forest; a lot of gorgeous views, and interesting animals. Dean didn’t usually come if it rained, but one time, it started storming when he got there, and Angel took him to a rocky outcrop by the lake and they watched the storm over the water in relative dryness (it helped that Angel held his wing over Dean’s head). 

Angel decided that the best way to cheer Dean up and stop him missing his brother would be to show him his favorite place in the wood. The lake, he’d discovered, was quite large. He’d always known that really, because he could only just barely see the edges from his spot on the beach. But what he hadn’t known at first was that if you flew along the water, to the far side of the lake, there was a stream that flowed into the lake. If he followed the stream to it’s source, the stream widened into another lake-like pool, but constantly flowing and moving, thanks to the frankly huge waterfall. 

It had taken him a few visits to the falls to find the cave. It was only really possible to get to by flying in. It was secluded, behind the waterfall, if a little damp closer to the falling water, but a bit farther back it was quite dry. He’d slept up there once, during a storm. He’d made a fire and everything. Now, he kept wood and tinder here all the time, as well as usually a bit of dried meat or sometimes the nuts and things that Dean sometimes brought him. It was a nice little spot. He thought, if it weren’t for Sam and Dean’s visits, he might have moved up here long ago. It was safe, it was private, there was plenty of food in the area too. He kept a blanket here, and usually a book or two. 

He picked up his friend, arms under his knees and supporting his back, and pushed off, flapping harder than usual. Carrying another person was more difficult than he’d originally thought it would be. 

Dean was always a bit shocked when Angel picked him up and flew. He didn’t really like flying, which disappointed Angel. He loved flying, and he’d like to share it with Dean more often than he did. As it was, Dean gave a startled shout and struggled briefly before clutching tightly to Angel’s neck, burying his face in his shoulder. 

The flight was forgotten when he slid behind the fall. Angel set him down, and Dean smiled as he looked around. It had an interesting look to it, this secret waterfall of Angel’s. 

“How did you even find this place?” he asked. “I didn’t know there were any waterfalls or cliffs or anything in the area.”

“Well, it was a bit hidden,” said Angel. “I found it by accident really.” He sat on the lip of the cave, letting the spray hit his face. Dean found himself watching Angel, skin sun dappled, with water droplets dripping slowly on down his chest. Dean’s eyes followed one as it slipped down Angel’s collarbone and down toward his nipple. He shook his head when he realized that he was staring. At _Angel_. Ridiculous. 

He flushed, when Angel met his eyes. “What are you looking at?” he asked. 

Dean coughed. “Uh. There’s a…I mean…you need a haircut,” he stammered.

Angel touched the end of his hair. “I guess so,” he said. “It has been a while. But I didn’t exactly have time to cut it properly before I left. And I didn’t want to want to risk ruining the knife on my hair, when I could just tie it up.” 

Dean gave him a little grin. “Hey, no worries. I will totally hook you up. I’ll bring scissors tomorrow. I’m fantastic at cutting hair. Been cutting Sammy’s since we were kids. Well. Not so much anymore. He’s really let it grow out.” He made a face, then laughed. “Full blown Rapunzel locks.”

“I think my hair is probably longer than your brother’s at the moment,” pointed out Angel. “Do I have Rapunzel hair?”

“Definitely,” said Dean, grinning. “But we’re gonna fix that. Sam won’t let me cut his hair. Sort of a college boy thing I guess.”

Angel nodded thoughtfully. “I never went to college,” he said. “I shouldn’t have the hair.”

Dean thought that hadn’t really been the point of the conversation, but he decided to just let it be for now. He’d get a sleeping bag or something for Angel to bring to the waterfall cave. He should at least have something comfortable to sleep on if he got caught up here.

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Bobby was on a creeper board under a rather dismal looking Miata when he heard the Jaguar. He pushed himself out and wiped off his hands as the sports car rumbled to a stop, engine almost purring as the driver clicked it off. 

Bela Talbot smiled at him as she walked briskly over, taking in everything from his oil stained hands to his paint splattered work boots.

“Look lady,” said Bobby, perhaps a bit rudely, “I still haven’t seen anythin’. I tol’dja I’d call if I did.”

Bela smiled. “I thought I’d get you to look over my car,” she said, crisp British tones smooth as honey. “It’s been making very odd noises.

“Sounded fine t’me,” said Bobby, brusquely.

“Then maybe it won’t cost much,” she replied, with a smile. “I’d still like you to look at it.”

Bobby sighed. She wasn’t going to leave it alone, he knew. Maybe he’d just get Dean to look it it. Bobby had always been better at taking things apart, diagnosing the issue. Dean was better at fixing things, especially the more expensive, newer cars. Bobby’s specialty was junkers. There was a reason John had been the one people went to to have their vehicles fixed and Bobby was the one that scrapped them.

Dean came hurrying back from the woods then, as if Bobby’s thoughts had summoned him. The young man saw Bela and froze, his whole body stiffening. _Interesting_ thought Bobby. Sam must have mentioned the woman to Dean. Whatever their secret was, they were very wary of this woman.

Bela smiled at Dean, holding out her hand which he took a bit distrustfully. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Bela Talbot. I don’t think I’ve met you.”

“Dean,” he said, shortly. “You seem a bit….glamorous to be hanging out out here,” he continued. 

“Well, thank you,” she said with a small, almost sultry look. Bobby rolled his eyes. The woman had a good ten years on Dean at least. Fifteen probably. To his credit, and slightly to Bobby’s surprise, Dean didn’t seem all that impressed. “I’m looking for something,” she said. “A man with wings, if you can believe it. The Company I work for is very interested in oddities of that nature. And I’ve heard that something of the sort has been seen around here. Flying over the woods.”

“Haven’t seen anything,” said Dean. “Sorry.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“Oh no. Just leaving my car here. The winter wasn’t kind to it.” She smiled again, winked, and sauntered off, back to the main part of town. Bobby watched Dean, who was watching the woman, not with lust, but with a pale, face, looking a bit drawn and even a little frightened. 

What the hell was Dean hiding?

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Summer came, and with it, came Sam. He was by himself this time, though he suggested Jessica might come visit sometime mid-summer. 

“Not dating her yet?” teased Dean. 

“Shut up,” muttered Sam. No, he wasn’t yet dating Jessica, though, if he were honest, sometimes he wondered why he wasn’t. They were best friends, and practically living together anyway. He simply...hadn’t gotten up the courage to ask her out officially yet. Dean wasn’t exactly helpful about the whole thing either. Though to be fair, he was acting exactly like any older brother would, probably. “How’s...everything?” He wanted details really, but with a house as oddly compact as this...Bobby might be listening. 

“Fine,” said Dean, understanding. “Things are great. Easier to go hiking and things now that there’s no snow. Wanna join me tomorrow?” 

Sam grinned. “Definitely.”

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The next morning, Bobby watched as Sam and Dean both slipped off to the woods. His curiosity really was getting the better of him. He wasn’t their father, he couldn’t force them to tell him...but maybe he could convince them to do so. He was concerned, after all, about their wellbeing. 

Dean had even stopped making excuses. He used to say he was hunting, but he never brought home any game. Then he had said that it was just he liked to walk, but Bobby had followed him a bit once, and Dean had left the trail quickly, and Bobby hadn’t bothered picking it up again. Not when Dean seemed intent on losing him. If he was going to follow Sam or Dean, he’d make it a last resort. They’d tell him, he was sure of it. He wouldn’t have to betray their trust or make it seem like he didn’t trust _them_

The boys were late for dinner. What the hell did they even _do_ out there all day? Bobby liked nature as much as the next country-bred man, but this was ridiculous. 

They burst into the house, laughing about something or other. Bobby didn’t press, didn’t pry. Not yet. He had to play this just right. He asked if they’d had a good time, if they’d seen anything interesting, what they had done. 

He was regaled with stories of a tree perfect for climbing, an eagle, a still cold lake and a small stream with a little waterfall that neither of the boys had known about before. “We were like, ten miles in or something,” said Dean. “I had no idea how fucking big those woods actually are. There’s always something new to find.”

Bobby waited until they were both lounging in the den, Dean absently flicking through TV channels, Sam skimming a book.  
“What’s out there that’s so important?” he asked. “Just exploring isn’t something men in their twenties just do. What did you find?” He wanted to ask if it was dangerous, if it was valuable if it was perhaps, a monster. He didn’t think it would be the latter. Not after the upbringing they’d had, learning to hate non-humans practically from the cradle.

Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing Bobby,” he said. “We just like the outdoors.”

“You go every day,” persisted the older man. “You go basically every day, and you have done for months now. You never liked the woods so much before, Dean. Nor you Sam. You always preferred to stay inside whenever possible.” 

“People change,” said Sam, stiffly. Bobby almost winced. He had wanted to avoid alienating the boys. To avoid making them defensive or angry. He’d already failed at that. 

“Not so quickly,” he said. What was the saying? In for a penny, in for a pound? Something like that. He started this, so he’d keep going. “I just wanna look out for you.”

“You aren’t our father,” said Dean. “We didn’t ask you to look out for us.”

“Your father ain’t here,” replied Bobby, shortly. “John isn’t ever here. I am. And this is my house.”

Dean stood now, scowling. “Dad did the best he could,” he snapped. “And you have no right to bash him like that.”

“I’m not bashing, I’m being honest. John was my friend, Dean, but when Mary died he fell apart. He dragged you all over the place, fillin’ your heads with hate and vengeance. THe best he could? Maybe. In the end he at least saw sense and left you here. Man was a damned fool! Still is. And drunk, more often than not.”

“Shut up!” yelled Dean. “You don’t know anything! He did the best he could with a shit situation! I don’t owe you anything Bobby! I didn’t ask you for anything, so you can’t make me do anything either!”

 

Sam slipped away from the house. Everything was too tight, too close. Dean wasn’t usually so prone to...to arguments like that. He was really on edge lately. Apparently that Bela chick was still around, still looking for Angel, and he’d been _seen._ Dean was worried, and his worry manifested itself in...well, picking fights. Sam supposed it was lucky it was Bobby instead of someone at a bar, but still. He didn’t want to be pulled into it right now, not when he was as stressed out as he was already.

“Hey stranger.” Sam whirled, and relaxed.

“Ruby,” he said. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” She grinned.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. “You never call, you never write…” her face changed, into one of concern. “What’s wrong? Fights at home?”

“How’d you guess?” he asked. “John isn’t even _here_. It’s Dean and Bobby, if you can believe it.”

“Have a drink with me,” she said, holding out a hand. “You need to unwind.”

Sam considered. It was probably a bad idea. But he definitely needed a drink. “Just one,” he agreed. 

Ruby’s grin turned almost...predatory for a moment. That glint in her eye was gone almost as suddenly as it had come though, and Sam thought he must have imagined it. “Of course,” she said. “What do you take me for?”

******************************************************************************************************

Summer days were lazy, and Dean was enjoying them immensely. Especially since, as the weeks dragged on, Bobby grew more suspicious, and Sam grew more distant. He was spending more time with Ruby, even staying the night at her place on occasion, and Dean...well, he didn’t like that. He didn’t trust Ruby, and he didn’t like the things Sam tended to get into when he was with her. One beer turned into three, one shot turned into a handle, a joint turned into an entire bowl...and that was just the stuff he knew about. Ruby was manipulative and clever about it. She acted like she cared about Sam’s wellbeing, but really, she only cared about herself. The worse part was, Sam refused to hear anything bad about her at all.

It was really very strange. Sam never mentioned Jessica at all anymore, though she was still meant to be coming to visit in a few weeks. As far as Dean knew, there had been a few texting conversations, but Sam was distant with Jess as well. He didn’t even always come to see Angel anymore, though Dean had generally done that more often anyway...this winter, at least Sam had the excuse of needing to entertain Jess. Now, he didn’t have that. There was only Ruby. 

One exceptionally hot morning, Dean left already in a rather bad mood. Sam was hungover, and Dean was sure there was more than alcohol involved, but he did promise to meet them at the cabin later. Still, Dean wasn’t sure he believed that. Sam promised a lot of things lately. 

Angel smiled when he saw Dean trudging up the path, flannel shirt tied around his waist, jeans sticking to his skin slightly. He was really regretting wearing them. “Sam isn’t coming?” asked Angel, after a moment, glancing behind Dean.

“He had a bit too much last night,” said Dean. “He’ll be around sooner or later, I think.”

“Too much….what?” asked Angel. “I don’t believe that sentence was grammatically correct.” 

Dean snorted at that. “Too much booze, dude,” he said. “It’s a saying. If you drink too much or smoke too much or whatever. It’s easier to say someone had a bit too much and leave it at that.”

Angel nodded, and Dean could almost see him filing the information away. It was sort of cute. Dean stopped that thought in its tracks. That sort of thing was happening far too often lately, and it was driving him insane. He had been taking a lot of cold showers recently, and it was starting to grate on him. It was _Angel _. Quite aside from the fact that he was...well, a dude, he was super emotionally stunted. And coming from Dean, that was saying something. But Angel probably wouldn’t even know what was happening if Dean tried to kiss him. It would be wrong, really, thought Dean. To involve himself on that level, even if Angel were not a guy.__

__“Well, Sam can meet us at the lake then,” said Angel._ _

__“The lake?” asked Dean, wiping sweat from his brow. He really needed to stop zoning out like that. He felt like he had missed something._ _

__“Yes,” said Angel, patiently. He was always patient. “It is incredibly hot today, and I could really use a swim.” He too was wearing jeans, one of the pairs Dean had given him, and for some reason, that thought made a warm thrill run up his spine in a way that had nothing to do with the heat._ _

__They walked in relative silence to the lake. Once there, Angel immediately removed the leather shoes he’d made for himself (Dean had given him proper shoes, but Angel said they were hard to move around in, and only wore them in snow), and started shimmying out of the jeans. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath them._ _

__“You do know we got you underwear, right?” asked Dean, trying not to look. But to be fair, Angel wasn’t exactly covering up._ _

__“I don’t like it,” he said. “I wasn’t sure how it was meant to be worn at first, because I hadn’t really seen it before, but when I figured it out….” he made a face. “It’s sort of confining. And then it fits oddly under the jeans. Also, I would take it off anyway,” he shrugged, wings twitching. “It would get wet.” And then he was launching himself into the air, leaving Dean stepping back in shock, but slightly in awe. Angel’s wings seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, for that brief moment he hung there in the sky before streamlining the wings around himself and diving. The splash he managed to make was rather impressive. Dean didn’t really wait for more of an invitation. He toed out of his shoes and yanked his socks off before pulling the grey t-shirt over his head and divesting himself of his own jeans and underwear._ _

__He tore into the water quickly...no sense in just letting it all...hang there, he thought. But _god_ the water felt like heaven. It was cool without being freezing and the breeze blowing along the surface of the water kept things from getting too hot or uncomfortably chilly when his wet skin rose above the water surface. _ _

__Angel seemed to be a decent swimmer, even if his movements were not exactly typical. He’d probably not been taught how to swim properly. He’d managed to figure it out fairly well though. He seemed to be combing out his wings at the moment, washing them._ _

__“Want help?” asked Dean. “They’re looking a bit...you know. All over the place.”_ _

__“Later,” said Angel, with a little smile. “Right now, I’m just trying to wash them out. It’s been a while. They take too long to dry to wash them every day.”_ _

__Dean nodded and started to float on his back, in lazy circles around Angel. Until the other man shook out his wings slightly and sprayed Dean, leaving him with a truly wonderful idea. He slid under the water. He heard Angel, muffled, but calling for him. He squinted through the water, to get a glimpse of his treading legs. Dean reached a hand out and grabbed Angel’s ankle, and pulling to duck him under before launching himself away._ _

__Dean was already laughing when Angel popped up sputtering. He stopped though, when he saw the bewildered and slightly hurt look on his friends face. “What did I do?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to splash you…”_ _

__Den felt a bit guilty. He’d forgotten that this man had probably been abused rather harshly when it came to mistakes. He might even have been half drowned before. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s just a game. Dunking the other person under. I do it with Sam all the time. You can splash me back, if you want.”_ _

__Angel, as it turned out, once the rules of the game were explained, was a very good splasher. It helped that he had two additional limbs that acted as a decent barricade to any waves of water Dean sent toward him, but they were so big, that they managed to drench Dean with every movement. It also helped that he could use both his arms and legs to stay afloat and still splash Dean, whereas Dean had to try and find ground he could stand on, or just use his legs, which was exhausting._ _

__But it was fun. He hadn’t played in the water like this since he’d been young. And he was still better at dunking than Angel was. He found that it was easy to splash at Angel and wait for him to protect himself before diving under and grabbing at hips or legs or ankles to pull him down again. It worked every time too. Until finally, Angel managed to anticipate a little bit, and wrap his legs around Dean’s waist, effectively dunking _him_ for a change. But he didn’t let go when he was done, just held his wings in place around them and staring into Dean’s eyes. _ _

__A soft cough from the beach alerted them to the fact they were not alone, and Sam stood there, in shorts and a t-shirt with his eyebrow raised._ _

__“It’s….we were playing a game,” said Dean, striking out for shore. “Come in! I’m the dunking king, even if Angel got me this last time.”_ _

__“I’m good,” smirked Sam, sitting on the sandy beach. “Though you have no idea how tempted I am to steal your clothes and run off.”_ _

__The lake shore echoed with laughter and half-angry shouts. Angel just watched as the brothers 'fought.' He thought that he'd never been happier._ _


	6. Discovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby's influence over Sam grows.  
> Bobby gets more and more concerned.  
> A phone call from John helps nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it is so short. 
> 
> Next one will be longer.

Sam felt drawn to Ruby, more and more, as of late. He didn’t fully understand it, but it was as if something...well, it was like he noticed something that he hadn’t noticed before. She was almost intoxicating. Though to be fair, that might have had something to do with the fact he was almost never sober very long when he was with her. It didn’t even feel odd to think like that. He didn’t drink much at school, nothing more than a beer or two usually, with his dinner, or more if he were at a party, but...not like this, not hard liquor whenever he saw someone. It was getting almost Pavlovian he thought sometimes. He saw Ruby and wanted to drink.

Or other things. He’d tried pot once before, but Ruby seemed to like it far more than he had. But soon he was getting high off her second hand smoke and then he was partaking himself. It was strange how easy it was to slide down that slope. He barely even noticed it was happening. Dean asked him about Jess sometimes, but...things were cloudy when it came to thinking about her. Ruby was _there_ she was available, and Jess was...far away. Coming...maybe but mostly she slid out of his thoughts like oil and water. 

He was late going to see Angel several times, if he managed it at all, after nights spent with Ruby. There had been some awkward pawing, but nothing that had gotten too far. He knew...surely he didn’t want that right? Even if it did feel good. Sam shook his head. He really needed to go see Angel soon. Dean went every day. He had no idea what he could be talking about for so long, or so often. But...he supposed it was similar with Ruby. In some ways. A bit.

He sighed, and rubbed his head. Thinking of Ruby always gave him a headache for some reason. Perhaps it was because she was so often in his thoughts now.

Sam shrugged it off, and stood. He’d just go see her, he decided. He’d go see her because actually talking to her never made his head hurt like thinking about her did. Decision made, and already feeling like a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders, Sam started for the door.

“Where ‘d’you think you’re goin’ boy?” came a gruff voice from behind him. “It’s about time to eat.”

Sam jumped about a foot when Bobby spoke, whirling around. “Nowhere,” he said, quickly. “Just...I’m getting dinner with friends.”

“With Ruby?” asked Bobby, shrewdly.

“Maybe,” said Sam, a bit snappishly. 

“Doesn’t she give you the willies?” asked Bobby. “Just this winter you were trying to find excuses to avoid her.”

“She’s fine,” he replied, defensively. “I was just...it was weird, that’s all. It’s different now. Can’t everyone just leave me alone about it? _God_.” 

And he stomped out the door. Bobby sighed. Sam spending time with a woman that he _knew_ was trouble, Dean disappearing for longer and longer spells...he was losing them. He supposed it was always going to happen, but...it hurt more than expected.

Dean didn’t show up for dinner either. Bobby ate a rather lonely meal of steak and potatoes, carefully wrapping up the plates he’d prepared for the boys and putting them away in the refrigerator. Maybe they’d eat them later. Still, he thought, opening a beer a bit more visciously than was perhaps necessary, it wouldn’t kill them to _tell_ him if they’d be away for dinner.

He forced himself to stop at one beer. It would be stupid to drink himself into oblivion now, but he did decide to go to the liquor store. He was almost out of Jack and he felt he’d need it soon. 

Dean banged through the door a few minutes later, looking pleased with himself.   
“What’re you smilin’ at?” asked Bobby.

“Good day,” replied Dean with a grin. “Got anymore beer?”

“Help yourself,” sighed Bobby. “I’m for the liquor store. Gettin’ some Jack. Want anything?”

“Jim?” he asked, with a smirk. “Don’t really care Bobby. Anything’s good for me.” 

He took the beer and went back outside. Probably to work on a car. Dean did that a lot, if he was energized from his day. Bobby didn’t get that. All day trumping around the woods and then you come home and want to keep working? Ridiculous. 

It was when he was on his way back from the store when he saw them. He didn’t even recognize them at first, but a second look after the first, annoyed one, he knew Sam. No one else was that tall. Ruby’s hands were threaded through his hair, and they were practically _writhing_ together. He was sure that her tongue didn’t need to be so far down his throat.   
He wanted to intervene to do….something, but he knew that wouldn’t go over well at all. So he hurried away, trying desperately to forget what he had seen. It wasn’t easy. Why her? he wondered. Honestly, he’d thought Sam was head over heels for Jess. Dean had thought so too. What had changed with Ruby? Bobby didn’t know, and he didn’t like it.   
His boys were changing. Hiding...something, the both of them. He was losing them. He hated it. 

Sam wasn’t back yet, though Dean was asleep when he got the phone call.  
Bobby took it out to the porch. Phone calls with John Winchester always got a little heated. 

“How are the boys?” he asked.

“They’re…” Bobby trailed off. “I don’t know, John,” he said, finally. “They’re hiding something from me, I know that much. And Sam has been seeing an awful lot of Ruby...remember her? Anyway, comes home drunk, when he comes home. Dean’s got something going on in the woods. I don’t know what.”

“Sounds like they’re being boys to me,” said John. Bobby could almost hear the shrug.

“You can’t keep doing this John,” he hissed into the phone. “They need their father at some point.”

“I need to find what killed my wife. It was a monster, Bobby. One not in that company place and one not fucking dead. I need to find it.”

“You need to focus on the family you’ve got left before you lose them too!”

“Don’t you dare tell me how to raise my sons, Bobby,” snapped John.

“You didn’t raise them!” was the reply, louder than it should have been. “When were you ever around to raise them John? I did that. I taught them how to drive, how to cook, how to fix cars. I helped them with homework and got Dean his guitar….they’re mine, just as much as they’re yours.”

“Shut up!” John was yelling now. Bobby could almost see him, face red, spitting into the phone. “What the fuck do you know? Mary was everything-”

“So was Karen!” Bobby exploded. “So was Karen, but guess what? Instead of wallowing for twenty years, bent on revenge I’ll never get, I picked myself up, and started a business and I raised two boys. You? You carted them around, taught them how to hate and dumped them off here. That is what I know.”

That didn’t go over well. Bobby hung up on the middle of John’s rant. He didn’t answer the phone when it rang again. Or the time after that. The fourth time, he answered and hung up immediately. Then, the phone sat silent.

He was still anxious and antsy the next morning. Sam hadn’t returned home, and when Dean slipped off toward the woods, clearly thinking he was being sneaky….Bobby made a decision. He grabbed his gun (just in case) and followed Dean. He stayed further back this time, not letting Dean see him. He was good at tracking, even when whatever it was he was searching for was out of sight. And he knew the woods pretty well too. It was slow going but he found the once dilapidated shack in the woods, much nicer looking now. He didn’t look inside much, just enough to know that someone was living here. 

He moved on. This path, well trodden, unlike the last time he’d ventured here, led to the lake. He heard them before he saw them. 

“I mean, if it’s getting that desperate I can get you some shorts.”

There was a sigh, and a response, male,”Dean, I am fine. You do not have to keep giving me things. This suffices for washing up the rest of my clothes.”

“It’s basically nothing,” that was Dean again, mumbling.

“You came early today. I am not going to change my schedule or my routines because of an unannounced visit.”

Bobby crept closer. He could see them now, Dean, and the other man. He was wearing a loincloth it looked like, though there were jeans stretched out on the rock behind him, along with what looked like bear claw gauntlets and a knife. But that wasn’t what really struck him. It was the wings. Huge and grey, though they seemed to shift in color at times if the man moved them right. He couldn’t breathe. It was the monster the woman had been looking for, he realized. Dean had….made _friends_ with it?

He grew careless in his shock. The monster stiffened, turned his gaze, intelligent, keen, predatory, it seemed, onto Bobby’s hiding space.

“You alright, Angel?” Dean was concerned, staring into the space Bobby was hidden. 

_Angel_ thought Bobby. Was that some sort of pet name?

“Someone’s there,” whispered the winged-monster, tensing, eyes flicking to the rock where the knife and bear claws looked slightly out of reach. 

Bobby tensed, took a deep breath, and stepped forward, pointing the muzzle of the gun directly at the monster’s chest. 

*&*&*&*&*&*&*888888888888888888888***********************************************88

Bela Talbot had been watching Dean Winchester since she’d met him. He knew something, she was convinced of it. But trying to find him in the woods was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. A needle that kept moving around.  
Singer was easier to follow. The man was on a mission, and he was so focused on his target, that he didn’t notice her slipping behind. She kept well behind him, even when he stopped. She could hear voices though she had no idea what they were saying. And then, he shouldered his gun and made himself known to whomever the voices belonged, Bela crept up herself, to watch.

Singer was holding the gun to the monster. Dean was there, frozen, glancing between U009WC2B and the older man, before his decision was made. He stepped in front of the monster, though, Bela had to admit, he looked even more like the Angel Mary had dubbed him now than ever before. 

“Bobby, don’t,” he said, pleading. 

“That’s a monster, son,” said Bobby. “Remember what your daddy said about them?”

“He’s not! I mean...he’s different. You’re the one that always says they aren’t all the same!”

Dean’s words felt like they were fumbling in his mouth. He wasn’t good at arguing, not like Sam was. “He’s not like the others, Bobby.”

Angel himself seemed to be trying to make himself as small as possible behind Dean. Even Bela had to admit, he didn’t look any more threatening now than he had when he had been a toddler. Even if he did have weapons now.

“He’s got Sam’s knife, the one I bought him,” said Bobby, not moving the gun. “And how do you know it ain’t him makin’ Sam act...like he is?”

“It isn’t Angel doing that, Bobby,” said Dean, holding out one hand, palm facing the older man as if it might stop a bullet. “He’s never done anything wrong, I swear.”

“He was locked up in that Company! You don’t go there unless you’ve done wrong.”

Dean glared. “He was locked up when he was a _kid_ Bobby! He was three fucking years old, you’re gonna tell me he’s done something terrible?”

“That’s what he’s told you. Since when do you trust anything anyone says boy? Especially a monster?”

“I had pictures,” It was the first Angel had spoken, deep voice soft, and slightly tremulous. “I can show them to you as well, sir. “

Bobby’s face didn’t change. “Dean speaks well of you,” tried Angel. 

“Shut up,” muttered Dean. It wasn’t helping. 

Or maybe it was. “Show me these photos,” said Bobby, warily. “And I’ll consider….believing you.” If not trusting him anyway. Bela held her breath has the tiny group passed her hiding place, Singer still holding Angel captive with the gun. When they were out of sight, she slipped   
from her hiding place in the bushes and walked over the rock, taking several photos with her phone. 

She had to get back to town. She had a phone call to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Bobby knows now. And Bela. 
> 
> This could be problematic.
> 
> And...what is Ruby doing to Sam? To find out, you must keep reading.....


	7. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, here we have the fallout of the events of last chapter.  
> We see Lilith, we see a bit of a battle.
> 
> Also, there is sex in this chapter. 
> 
> You have been warned.   
> It is my first time trying to write smut so...sorry if it is bad. If it isn't your cup of tea at all, you can skip that bit, I'll tell you what plot you missed at the end of the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chronology gets a bit weird here. But...I wanted certain things to happen….and certain ways to end the chapter. SO. Because of that...we start the story with events happening ELSEWHERE, after the events of last chapter, and then go back to things happening with Dean and Cas and Bobby.

Until today, not much had been going right since the minor earthquake had opened the walls of the Company. She’d put out word that only the winged-man was needed before every monster was back under her control, but that wasn’t entirely true. There were a few monsters still out, still able to make trouble, though, to be fair, not many. There were even a few of her own that she was still looking for, those she’d caught at mutiny, that hadn’t been fully...reeducated yet.   
Today though…something was finally going right. Well, two things all wrapped up in the one. Find a monster, kill a competitor. Things were looking up. 

Lilith stared at the photos on her computer screen, clicking through them slowly. There were only six pictures, but they told her everything that she needed to know. It was the last two that interested her the most. A slow, sharp-toothed smile spread over her features. 

A press of a button, and Alistair and Azazel stood before her a few minutes later. She turned the computer around to show them the photographs.

“Bela has proved herself,” said Lilith. “Give her my thanks and tell her that her contract is terminated.” Alistair snorted, but fell silent again at Lilith’s cold-eyed glare. She turned to Azazel. “This is your chance to redeem yourself,” she said, a calm tone that didn’t quite hide the razor sharp fury, still fresh, still strong. 

Azazel ground his teeth. Before….well, before, he had had far more power than a jumped up bitch like Lilith could even imagine. But that was before. It was no longer the case and both of them knew it. So he remained silent, acknowledging the charge with a nod. Lilith continued. “I believe it is time to unleash our favorite lady,” she said with a smile that made her eyes shine with unnatural glee. “We’ll wake up mommy-dearest. It’s been too long since she’s been out to play. And there are old scores to settle.”

****************************************************************************************************************

Sam’s fingers dug into Ruby’s hips, drawing her closer, hands sliding under the waistband of her shorts. Both were barefoot, and he was shirtless, her fingernails scoring his back with fine white and red lines. Her mouth closed on top of his, and he held her firmly in his lap, moaning softly into her mouth as she rolled her hips smoothly.

He rolled his own hips and then he was standing, holding her up as she held to his neck, barely taking his lips away from hers for a moment as he stumbled slightly, crashing them both into a small table, pressing her back against the wall as they grew more frantic. He tugged at her shirt, hating the separation, the closeness of their bodies even for a moment, 

He slammed close again (both would have bruises the next day), hand twining in her hair as he worked his way down her jaw and onto her throat, biting, sucking, kissing. Ruby’s fingers dug into his shoulder blades, and he thought he felt her long nails break skin. He didn’t care. Her hands slid down his back, pressing against his chest as she squeezed one of his nipples, causing him to gasp out loud. 

She did it again, twisting slightly, and his own hands found her bra clasp, undoing it expertly before slipping them under the fabric to cup at her breasts, squeezing. It was Ruby’s turn to gasp, bucking up slightly, tightening her legs around his hips. 

He lifted her up again, and with only a brief pause, slamming against a wall, biting her lower lip, reddening it, they made it to the bedroom, crashing onto the bed. She slid her hands down his back again, under the waistband of his jeans, and he bucked against her, even as she danced one clever, nimble hand around to undo the button and zipper of the pants. 

Sam was less gentle, tearing at the button of her shorts, not caring as the zipper broke, the button zinging off somewhere across the room. She shimmied out of them, and he pressed his finger to the crotch of her lacy underwear, causing a groan from both of them when he felt how wet she was.

He was almost aching as she shoved his jeans and underwear down to his thighs, mouthing at his neck as he shoved them the rest of the way off, and he half sat to pull her onto his lap again and yanked her underwear down. She gasped as he bit her neck, licked at her collarbone and bit at one of her nipples. He repeated the ministration, harder, to the other and slipped a finger into her, rubbing slowly. 

He kissed at her stomach, groaning as her fingers entwined in his hair, yanking, and removed his finger only to mouth at the earthy wetness of her sex. Ruby cried out as his tongue flicked in, as his lips closed and opened, over stimulating the sensitive nerves. He slipped out, nipping along the insides of her thighs before moving up again.

_”Yes_ ” she breathed, pressing up against his mouth. Then, “Fuck me, Sam, just fuck me already.” He moved up her body again and bucked slightly as her hand found his cock, squeezing it lightly, pumping it, until he was aching and leaking. She guided him down and he entered her, both of them gasping slightly, and then, groaning louder as he began to move. He snapped his hips and she dug her nails into his back. He moved faster, harder, the air full of soft grunts and loud moans. 

“Fuck, yes,” cried Ruby, perhaps slightly louder than the situation called for, but it made the fire in Sam’s belly pulse slightly, and he snapped his hips harder, pumping into her for all he was worth. 

She screamed as she came, and he shuddered, pulling out to spill his own seed over her stomach, and collapsed next to her, biting at her shoulder. Ruby pressed one finger onto the semen on her stomach and licked it, dark eyes staring at Sam the entire time. He groaned again, squeezing her thigh, fingers brushing at the coarse dark hair between her legs again. “God, you’ll kill me.” 

Ruby just laughed. “Wait here, I’ll clean us up.” She rolled off the bed, returning a few minutes later with a washcloth. Sam was already asleep, but she cleaned herself and him, before tossing the cloth away. 

She pulled on her underwear and a different pair of shorts, and a t-shirt, different than before. She watched him sleep. It had taken a long time to get him to this point. Almost frustratingly long. The problem with Sam, she reflected, was that he was basically a good person. Unfortunately for him, good person though he might be, her boss needed the darker side, the almost animalistic side of him. 

It had taken years, Ruby inserting herself into his life, early on, befriending him, giving him his (second) beer (as Dean had the dubious honor of giving him his first at thirteen), and his first shot (fifteen), his first cigarette( also fifteen), his first hit of marijuana (eighteen). 

Of course, nothing much had happened, she was just waiting, until recently. It had been hard over winter break, when he brought the girl with him. Still. A few subtle magics--spells in her house, in the smoke of the cigarettes or pot or incense, potions in the alcohol. Really it was good that she had such talent as a witch, she reflected. Or this would be a lot harder. Spells to make his thoughts of other people, family, friends, responsibility, more distant. He’d think of something else, to find his thoughts meandering back to her again. She needed to be the most important thing in Sam’s life.

Blood was important too, of course, just small drops of it--in the drink (provided the drink had color) usually. Just enough to make Sam need it, need _her_. He didn’t even know what he was addicted to. It was almost cute. 

She pricked her thumb, absently tracing it over Sam’s lips, painting them red. He licked, stiffened, and relaxed. She let him suck on her thumb, urging more blood to the surface. Ruby scowled, at the shadow that moved slightly in the corner. Typical, she thought. Fucking orders. Again. She was doing rather well, she thought, for what she’d been given. “It’s coming along,” she said, roughly. “Tell her that it’ll be soon.”

She could feel the displeasure at that. “Not soon,” came the growling voice. “Now. Timetable has moved up.”

***************************************************************************************************************

He cracked an eyelid when he felt the slight rush of wind that accompanied his sister’s landing. Her wings were still tucked away on the ethric plane, but he could see them anyway. And feel them. “Took you long enough,” he complained, pushing himself to his feet. “What’d you find?”

“I think he is closer than we thought,” she said, pushing red, wind-blown hair out of her face. “We overestimated how far he would get.” 

He frowned. That was unfortunate. He opened his mouth to ask what she meant, exactly, when he heard it. He tilted his head, listening. 

“Ga-”

“Shh,” he hissed. “Do you hear that?”

A moment later and she did, and she snapped to attention, all her nerves on high alert. She glanced to her brother, and saw that his sword was already in his hand. With a thought, she called her own blade to her. 

The first vampire crashed out of the woods, and growled, launching himself at the woman. She evaded easily, and struck, sending the creature’s head rolling. But there were more, she could hear them, the sound like army ants, coming steadily closer. 

There was another vampire, and this time, it was the male that dispatched it. 

And then, suddenly, there were scores of them, pouring out of the woods all around the two siblings. They’d launch themselves at one, but no sooner did their head leave their body than another vampire took its place. The man was being attacked by four of them, the woman by three, though the other vampires didn’t seem to care much about their brethren, pushing and shoving and biting at each other to get at their prey.

She saw one man coming, a spike growing out of his forearm. “Wraiths!” she yelled to her brother. 

“No!” he called back, “Something new!” He was right. They had fangs of a vampire, and the poisoned spikes of a wraith. What the hell was this new monstrosity? she thought, slightly panicked. New monsters didn’t just _happen_. 

She ducked as one of the hybrids leapt at her, jabbing her sword into its abdomen, dragging her blade slightly. 

Luckily, it seemed the power in the blade itself was enough to kill the creatures without having to take off their head. That made things easier. Whatever these creatures were, they seemed to have been an afterthought. Easier to kill. 

The man slammed his sword into an actual vampire’s neck, twisting the blade even as he caught the face of one of the hybrids. A light pulsed and the creature fell to the ground, burnt out. 

That was a relief, at least, he thought, jerking his blade out of the neck of the vampire to slice off the hand of the vampire-wraith-creature coming at him. It screamed, though not for long, as his swung, slicing off the monster’s head with a clean blow. 

The crowd was thinning out now, though the pile of bodies only got bigger. It was hard to fight on top of them, and the man absently wished that vampire bodies would disintegrate upon death, like they did in the movies. It was only fair really. 

There was another shuffling, and then, his sister cried out, “They’re people! Just people!” Their new foes didn’t seem to have any weapons at all, but leapt at the two of them, screaming in anger. No, rage. Unadulterated fury was pouring off of these humans like nothing either sibling had ever felt. They looked ready to tear them apart with their bare hands. In fact, just as with the vampires, they fought amongst themselves to get at their quarry. But these people actually did start killing each other, tearing into the others in their way with teeth and hands, biting, scratching, gouging. 

The scent of blood was already prevalent, and now, the the smell of shit and vomit joined it. Bowels erupted, intestines steamed. 

The ones that got through to the original targets seemed to ignore stab wounds or limbs being chopped off, only stopping their berserk-er struggle when a blade rammed through their heart, or separated hand from body.

Then, suddenly, it seemed, all was quiet. No birds chirped, no wind stirred.

Only two stood, back to back, swords and clothes bloodstained, breathing hard, keen eyes staring at the dense foliage. A hundred dead lay at their feet. 

Then, came the soft voice. “Look at what you did to my babies.” It was a young voice, that of a teenager even. The body that accompanied it followed soon after. A young girl, barefoot, plain white dress wandered out of the woods, looking quite put out. She had a fair, smooth face, big brown eyes and soft, silky looking brown hair. At least, on the outside. Her true face was a monstrosity, older even than the universe, with a thousand eyes, and a rotting jaw, teeth sharp and dripping with venom, a stink of death rising from her.

A human would only see the girl. Neither the man, nor the woman were human though, and both were slightly frozen at the true aspects of the creature before them. Acidic slime dripped from her nose and mouth, and odd clicking sounds accompanied her. Spiders followed in her footsteps, poisonous and huge, all of them. Her eyes, all of them burned with a dead hate that sent a chill through the hearts of both creatures she glared at now.

“You killed them all. And some of them were _so_ new.” She smiled then, and it was worse than the glare. “It has been so long since I’ve seen you two,” she crooned. “Don’t worry. This time, I’ll just kill you. I’ve gotten so dreadfully bored of long lasting punishments. Especially ones people come back from,” she pouted at them. “Oh well.” She gave another grin, and snapped her fingers. Huge creatures started pushing themselves out of the earth, like golems, or the giants of old, and stumbled toward the exhausted fighters. 

The woman turned to her brother. He shook his head, but she glowered and yelled, “Go!”, before launching herself at the nearest giant, though most of her stabs seemed rather ineffective, and sand poured out of his wounds. He swatted her like a fly, but she caught herself, mid-air, and lunged again, taking to an aerial fight, slamming her hand down on his head, and a bright light streaming from her fingers and out his mouth and nose and eyes. For a moment, he shone like glass, and she brought her blade down hard, and he cracked and shattered.

She flew at another, slamming into him just as he grabbed for her brother. 

He managed to ignore the giants, though he ducked them well enough, in his quest to get to the girl. “Eve,” he ground out. 

She laughed. “What are you going to do, angel-cakes?” she asked, taunting. “You can’t hurt me.” He lunged, forearm at her throat. He heard the horrible sound of his sister being slammed to the ground, her choked cry. 

He showed Eve his sword. “Want to rethink that statement?” he asked, showing off his six huge wings, for just her eyes. They widened, both her real eyes and her vessels eyes. 

“No,” she breathed. “It shouldn’t be possible.”

“Sorry,” he grinned. “You aren’t as good as you once were.”

She screamed as the blade drove into her throat, cut off in a gurgling, choking noise. He twisted the sword, driving it in deeper, and and placed his other hand on her head, driving the bright, white-blue light of his power deep into her vessel, into the center of the monster herself. 

Another, unearthly scream, and everything went white.

The clay giants collapsed back into dust as the light cleared, and the red-haired soldier slowly stood. 

“We have to find him,” she said, thinly. “It is starting.”

********************************************************************************************************************

BEFORE

Bobby followed Dean and a very nervous monster named Angel, of all things, back to the little cabin in the woods. Angel didn’t seem used to walking in bare feet, and he limped slightly, though he moved quickly, as if he could sense the gun pointed at his back.

He ushered Bobby in and pointed at the wall next to the camping bed and sleeping bag, to the photos. They were all old, Bobby noticed. Some were of the Winchester boys, or of Mary. He saw with a shock the Halloween photos, and thought maybe he understood the significance of Dean’s four-year-old costume of an Angel Batman. He stared at the pictures of Mary with a young--Dean’s age--Angel, who looked young and confused, and too thin, even then. 

“You knew Mary,” he said, slowly.

“She taught me much,” said Angel, seriously. “She gave me a name. Without her...I would have only been a file name. A code.”

Bobby looked at the pictures again. This monster...man? Had been in captivity from the time he could walk. Bobby found himself rethinking what he knew of the Company. He’d...not liked them, particularly. He believed more in killing the things that killed people, not studying them, at least, not to the extent that the Company seemed to do it. 

But if they were taking children...those who hadn’t _done_ anything….well, he definitely could not approve of that. He was suddenly glad for his gruff treatment of that annoying British lady that kept coming around. Something in him twinged, and it took a minute to realize it was pride. Pride in Dean, who had somehow managed to overcome a lifetime of indoctrination of his father’s teachings and be a friend to this winged-man. 

The insides of the walls, he noticed now, were full of protective symbols, all very old, and some….”Who did those?” he asked, pointing to the one next to the door. There was a key of Solomon, and a devil’s trap, but the one on the door frame, was more all encompassing sigil to ward off any with evil intent. In Enochian.

“I did,” said Angel. “I wasn’t sure if the sigils were right, but they felt...accurate. And we added ones we _knew_ would work too, just in case.”

“How’d you learn Enochian?” he asked, stunned.

“Is that what it is?” asked the monster. Or...whatever he was, Bobby was no longer sure. “I simply always knew it, I suppose. I never wrote it before, but...I always knew how to speak it. Before I could speak any other language.”

“How many languages…”

“I think I can understand all of them,” said Angel, “Though I really only learned to speak a few. The ones that were taught me by the people at the company.”

Bobby had set his gun down, and now he took off his hat and rubbed at his hair before putting the hat back on. “Good God, kid,” he muttered. 

Angel shifted a little uncomfortably. “If you are going to forbid Dean from seeing me again, please let me say goodbye. And give me time to pack, I’ll...there’s somewhere else I can go, I won’t bother anyone.”

“Naw, boy,” said Bobby. “I won’t make you move. I’ll tell that company girl that’s been hangin’ around to go find her monster somewhere else.”

Dean relaxed. Angel seemed to do so as well. “Thank you sir. Um. I’m just….going to get my laundry. From the lake,” he clarified. Bobby flushed, feeling a bit embarrassed and guilty now that the adrenaline was fading, and stepped out of the cabin. “I’ll head on back,” he said. “Find that company gal and send her off,” he told Dean.

The man nodded, and backed after Angel. “I’ll help him grab his stuff,” he said. 

“We ain’t done with this conversation son,” called Bobby. 

“I know!” yelled Dean, over his shoulder. “I’ll be back for dinner!”

He jogged after Angel, back to the lake. Angel tied the knife around his waist, and started piling the pants and ponchos in his arms when he heard a faint _click_. He slowly turned, and found himself staring at a woman, holding a small square out at him, and another click. 

She was smiling. It took him a moment before a hazy memory of the woman came to him. The one who taught him French, who disappeared around the time Mary had. Angel panicked, he dropped most of what he was holding and grabbed Dean, who was staring at the woman in horror. 

Neither of them heard the camera going off again as Angel took to the skies, heart thrumming in his ears, instinct screaming at him to flee. The waterfall, he thought vaguely. The waterfall would be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you skipped the SamxRuby smut, then all you really missed is that Ruby is using magic and her blood to control Sam, and that she is working for someone nefarious, because they need same for a grand master plot. Things are moving quickly, and she is running out of time to get things right.
> 
> So. I dunno. I've never written smut before, not by myself, and the times I RP'd anything smutty, it tended not to be het. So. I tried.   
> Sorry if it was bad.
> 
> Also, a berserker was a kind of Viking soldier. They were said to be ferocious, and fueled by anger, and pain etc didn't bother them.


	8. Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is keen on trying to stay one step in front of the other players on the board.
> 
> Angel and Dean have fled from Bela (who has taken photos of Angel and sent them on to Lilith).
> 
> Ruby presses Sam for information--and what is she grooming him for anyway?
> 
> Jess returns, but things are not going to be as bright for her as she thought.
> 
> And we see two new arrivals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is short. Also, that it took so long. And that it...well, isn't my best. Things have been insane. I've barely been home at all for the past several days.
> 
> But next week, things should calm down again. Hopefully, I'll get more chapters out fast.
> 
> Things are coming to a head (haha) here in this chapter. They start getting really, really crazy next chapter.

“She’s dead,” said a short, balding man, a little on the stout side, but dressed impeccably. He wasn’t surprised, exactly, but...perhaps a little disappointed. “I can’t believe they killed her.”

“Father said something about her being a liability or something,” shrugged the girl next to him, looking at the body. It’s probably your fault,” she added. “You’re the one that had her working as a double agent. You know how they are about that.”

“What about you?” he retorted. 

“Oh, I’m not a double agent at all,” she said. “I never told my father I’d work for him, after all. I mean, it isn’t my fault he assumed.”

“He’ll kill you if he gets his hands on you,” warned the man.

“Please,” she snorted. “I’m not an idiot. I know better than to let him see me. But I’ll be on the winning side of this, you’ll see. And then, when it is all over, I’ll take great pleasure in killing your smarmy English ass.” She flashed him a smile. “Watch over your boys. And keep your dogs at bay. I like this jacket.” He gritted his teeth, watching as she sauntered away. She was one he wouldn’t mind killing. Until this was over though, until Lilith was put _down_ like the rabid bitch she was, he needed to work with...many he’d rather avoid involving. Oh well, he comforted himself, stroking the head of his biggest dog. It will be over soon.  
***************************************************************************************************** 

 

Sam slept, sprawled out over most of Ruby’s bed. Ruby herself wasn’t in the bedroom at all. She was deep in conversation, crouching in the darkened bathroom, fan and water on to ensure she wasn’t overheard if Sam happened to wake up.

“It’s only been a few days,” she hissed. “I can _do_ it but I need more time, that’s all.” There was no time, apparently. Things were moving into place, and moving faster than anyone originally thought. She had to act now, or consider herself redundant. Ruby didn’t need to be reminded how the boss felt about redundancy. “It will be done,” she muttered. “But don’t expect it to be as perfect a job as it would have been, given more time.” 

She washed her hands, and flipped off the fan and water before heading back into the bedroom. She let the robe drop from her shoulders and climbed on top of Sam, kissing his neck, and murmuring. Sam came awake, but his eyes were glassy, unfocused. Ruby reached over him, and was relieved to find that he was definitely under the influence of her spells. Her breasts swung close to his face, but he made no notice of them. She grabbed a letter opener from the side table and cut a small line in her arm. She took a finger and painted her lips with the blood, and reached down and pressed them to Sam’s lips.

He licked the blood clean. Well. Now or never, she figured, pressing her cut arm to his lips. He struggled for a second, eyes clearing briefly, but a few words from Ruby and they clouded over again. He drank. Ruby grinned. She’d need to find someone else soon, but Sam’s blood, mixed with hers might just be enough. He wouldn’t even need the spells, by the end of the week, to be prompted to drink from her. He just _would._

“Sam,” she murmured in his ear. “I need to ask you something.” Sam pulled away from her arm, reluctantly, and stared up at her. His gaze was clearing from the spells, but...it seemed her sources hadn’t been wrong. He was _high_. Amazing. “You and your brother go on such long walks. Hunting?”

“No,” he said, tonelessly. “Not hunting. Nothing to hunt really.”

“What do you do?”

“Walk. Talk.”

“Do you see anything out there? Monsters?”

“No monsters. Animals.”

“What else? Anything special?”

“Dean likes him.”

“Who?”

Sam actually giggled. “Says he doesn’t but he definitely does.”

“Who does he like Sam?”

“Angel.”

Ruby’s grin widened. She’d like to hear someone call her redundant now. They wouldn’t live long enough to hear her stop laughing.

********************************************************************************************************

Dean yawned and stretched as he woke, feeling oddly exhausted and sore. He also really needed to pee. He saw the reason why when he propped himself up on his elbows, and stared at the rushing water that served to hide the cave from any who didn’t know it was there, or couldn’t fly. 

He glanced around. Angel was shifting nervously across the cave, watching Dean. When Dean met his eyes, Angel glanced away. “I...sorry,” he said, softly. “I didn’t mean to...I panicked. When she took the photos. I...I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”

He looked positively dejected. 

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “You did sort of freak out and kidnap me,” he agreed. “That probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do.”

“I knew her,” he said quietly, almost disbelievingly. “She taught me French. Why would she…” He closed his eyes, shook his head. “I knew she didn’t like me but to be searching for me? To try and send me back?”

Others would come. She’d send the pictures and others would come for him, to take him back to the company. 

“We could try to prevent….you know. Anything bad from happening to you,” said Dean. “If you met the people of the town we might be able to get them to see you aren’t a monster.”

“I _am_ though,” he said, twisting his hands together. Dean stared at the motion, strangely unable to pull his eyes away. “I am a _monster_ , Dean, and-”

“No,” said Dean shortly, dragging his eyes up to meet Angel’s now shocked blue ones. “You aren’t. A monster is something that takes pleasure in hurting or killing others. Or that needs to do either of those things to exist or live. You don’t, so you can’t be a monster. You’ve never hurt anyone, not once.”

Castiel tightened his lips slightly. “But I am clearly not human. I...I have a strange muscular structure, and the wings-”

“So?” asked Dean. “The world isn’t split up into humans and animals and monsters. Not everything that is...a hybrid thing is evil. You have some extra muscles and totally awesome wings. You are seriously freaking cool Angel. You aren’t a monster.” He jutted his chin out, daring the other to argue. Angel didn’t. Granted, Angel rarely argued with anyone, but still. Dean needed him to believe it. 

It took a long moment for Angel to nod. He licked his constantly dry lips, not noticing as Dean’s eyes followed his tongue before glancing away. “I need to pee dude,” said Dean. “And we really do need to go back. I’ll start convincing people you are not a monster. That we can’t send you back to that torture place.”

Angel didn’t look convinced. “And Bobby’ll be freaking the fuck out too,” added Dean. “I said I’d be back for dinner. I didn’t show up. We wanted him to like you, remember?”

Dean moved to sit next to Angel, who looked nervous, then relaxed slightly. “We can just go back to the woods. We’ll find a forget spell or something for that Bela chick.”

Angel nodded slowly, relaxing more as Dean’s finger came in contact with his wing. “You won’t let them capture me?”

“Never,” whispered Dean, meeting Angel’s eyes, fingers absently stroking through the shining feathers of Angel’s wing. The other flicked slightly, Dean could see it out of the corner of his eye, similar to a dog wagging its tail when petted. 

Angel’s eyes drifted shut. “I trust you.”

Dean was struck by a sudden urge to touch Angel’s face or hug him or...something. He stopped petting quickly. Angel opened his eyes, tilting his head in an unverbalized question.

“I uh. You know. It’s just weird. Petting you or whatever.”

“Why?” he asked. “It was just touching. It felt nice.”

“It’s um. We’re both guys, you know. And uh. It’s just weird.”

“Why?” asked Angel. “Two males can’t touch each other?”

“Well, they can,” said Dean. ‘But uh. I don’t swing that way.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, as he tried to make sense of that particular statement.  
“What does...swinging have to do with anything?” he asked, after a few moments. 

Dean flushed. “Like...it’s called swing...I dunno. If you are a dude that likes dudes you swing to...that side. If you are a guy that likes chicks you ...swing to that side. I don’t know why it’s called swinging actually,” he finally admitted, mostly to stop stumbling over his explanation. “Just trust me. It is weird.”

Angel nodded. “I do trust you,” he said again. “I’ll always trust you.” And Dean’s stomach did that horrible swooping thing it did with alarming regularity since he’d realized that the Angel from the stories his mother had told him, the Angel from the dreams that had followed him his whole life was real.

*******************************************************************************************************

Jessica slammed on her breaks, staring in horror at the scene before her. Sam, standing on that Ruby girl’s porch, tongue shoved down her throat. Ruby herself seemed to be wearing nothing under the silky bathrobe. Jessica stopped the car and flung herself out of the driver’s seat without even thinking about it. What the hell was Sam doing? Had he forgotten she was coming to visit? She didn’t own him of course, they weren’t dating, but all the same it felt as if a vise was crushing her insides as she watched him kiss another girl.

Ruby’s eyes met hers, dark and almost inhuman for a moment. It must have been a trick of the light, thought Jess. No one’s eyes were black. Ruby didn’t seem to care that Jessica was watching. In fact, if anything, it spurred her on, guiding Sam’s hand to the tie of her robe. “Sam?” she asked, her voice a lot less steady than she’d have liked. 

He pulled away, an almost suction like sound as he detached himself. Maybe she was imagining that part, but with her heart racing in her ears like it was, it was hard to figure out what was true and what was not. He stared at her like he didn’t know who she was. Then he gave her a small nod. “Hey Jess.” His hand tightened around Ruby. Jess stared at it. 

“What...what are you doing?” she managed.

“What does it look like?” he retorted. “You’ve met Ruby. We’re...together. Sort of.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “I’ve fucked your one true love,” she sneered. “What do you think of that?” 

Jessica glanced to Sam, who was acting...just bizarrely. He stared vacantly ahead, with an odd sort of smirk on his face.

“What have you done to him?” she demanded.

“Not a thing,” laughed Ruby. “Well. I made him mine. He’d do anything for me.” 

“Yeah,” murmured Sam. “Anything.” He blinked, and turned to Jess again. “Why are you here?”

“You invited me,” she said. “To stay for the month while we get ready to go back to school.” She was blinking back tears, which Ruby seemed to see and find amusing. The brunette leaned up to whisper something to Sam. 

“I might not go back,” he said. “Ruby is here.”

“God, what the hell has she done to you?” snapped Jessica. “Can’t you see that something is really _off_ about her? She’s...drugged you or something.”

“Can’t you just accept that he chose me and move on?” asked Ruby, furious. “He chose me, you blonde...harpy, and not you. No one likes a sore loser.”

“You…” sputtered Jess, “You _witch_!”

Sam turned a glare toward Jessica. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that,” he seethed. “I’m with her. You can leave. Go home Jessica.”

He grabbed Ruby’s hand and stormed back inside the house. Ruby sent a parting smirk over her shoulder as the door slammed. Moments later, there was another bang, and a loud female groan. Jessica’s face flamed. She didn’t care if Ruby was only doing it to hurt her, or to get a rise out of her. Knowing didn’t help. It worked. She slipped back into her car. Where to?

Bobby’s, she decided. Dean would know what to do. Sam wasn’t himself. And there was something very wrong with Ruby.

 

Things were not much better at Bobby’s though. The man looked as if he hadn’t slept, though he at least, had remembered she was coming. “Sam isn’t here,” he said, in an exhausted tone. 

“No, he’s with that awful Ruby,” she said, and to her horror, tears sprang into her eyes again. She swallowed, and continued, in a slightly shaking voice. “I think...he’s acting very strangely Bobby. Is Dean here? I have to talk to him.”

The older man shook his head. “No. I saw him yesterday. He was with a friend but he didn’t come home last night. I went back to where I saw them last but there was nothing. Well… that’s not true. The task he went to do was undone.”

“Did...something happen to Dean too then?” she asked. 

“I don’t think he’s...dead in a ditch somewhere, but he ain’t anywhere he’s meant to be either,” said Bobby. “I think something musta happened though, or he’d’ve called.” He sighed. “And Sam’s been acting very strange of late, I’ll admit that. Maybe I can talk some sense into him when he comes home.” 

Jess couldn’t help it. She sank down onto Bobby’s threadbare couch and started to cry. He was a bit nonplussed, but pet her head a bit awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” she sniffed. “I don’t know...I thought…”

“Yeah,” said Bobby. “So did I.”

***********************************************************************************************************************

It had taken a good portion of the day to convince Angel that going back to the lake was indeed a good idea. Most of his stuff was still there, after all. And they’d need to show Bobby they were both fine. And they could make Bela forget...or at least put some hiding spells on the cabin. 

Angel wasn’t keen on the idea of returning. But he couldn’t exactly keep Dean up here forever. And he didn’t have clothes up here anyway, just the loincloth he’d been wearing to wash his other clothes. Dean only had the one pair of jeans and his shirt as well. There wasn’t much by way of food up here yet either. So he picked Dean up again, and flew him back to the lake. 

They found his things there, mostly untouched. That unnerved Angel a bit.

 

“Hey,” said Dean, with a careless shrug of his shoulders. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“What? There isn’t a horse here, Dean,” said Angel, frustrated. 

“No, it means...like, it’s a good thing. Don’t worry about it. Or question it too much or it might come back to bite you.”

That didn’t make much more sense really, but Angel dropped it. They carried the dry clothes and his weapons back to the cabin. Something was...definitely wrong. Angel tightened his grip on his metal rod, and stared around at the woods. “Do you smell blood?” he asked.

Dean sniffed. “No, I-” he began, then both jumped back with alarmed noises. Something had fallen almost on top of them. “Oh god,” murmured Dean, heart racing, face pale. “I think I’m going to be sick.” There was another dull thud, and a body, torn to shreds, edges of the scores of wounds still bloody, fell a few feet away from the head, face still twisted in fear and anguish, of Bela Talbot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter's called ahead. And yeah, it involves characters trying to get ahead but also....see what I did there? I'm horrible. Sorry.


	9. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company kidnaps Angel, Dean meets Alistair, Angel meets a friend and Jessica discovers some...rather uncomfortable truths.
> 
> Things start really happening in this chapter.   
> It is also split into two parts, so part two will be up sometime tonight or tomorrow. It will also be somewhat shorter.

They stared at the head in horror.

“Oh god,” breathed Dean. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“They--they--” Angel could barely even speak at all. Some of his old lessons surfaced in his mind; the teachings about the supernatural and the other monsters. He hadn’t been supposed to be reading this particular one, a demonic lexicon, and it had put an end to his supernaturalist studies when he was in his fifteenth year in the Cage.. He swallowed, and forced himself to speak. “It was a hellhound,” he said, a bit faintly. “At least...what tore up the body...it looks like a hellhound. I don’t know about her--”his voice cracked.

“A...a _hellhound_?” managed Dean, eyes not moving from Bela’s bloodied, terrified face. 

“Or it looks like one.”

“Those things’re real?”

“I read an anthology,” was the shaky response. “Demons and demonic entities.”

“Demons?” Dean’s voice was almost a squeak on the word.

Angel nodded. “So. Hellhound or...someone made it look like a hellhound for some reason.” He sniffed. “There’s even sulfur.” His voice was getting stronger, though more clinical. He took a shaky breath. “She taught me French,” he said, quietly. 

A snapping branch had his head whipping around. Some animal, perhaps. “Madred Oi Olai,” he ordered.

There was no response, no sound of any animal leaving. Then, suddenly, Angel gave a shout and launched himself at Dean. They fell to the ground in a heap as a dart whistled overhead, burying itself in a tree. 

“Stay down,” hissed Angel, rolling off Dean and rising to a crouch, eyes frantically searching the foliage. Just as suddenly, he ducked again as another dart sailed by. 

Dean inspected the dart in the tree from his relatively safer position. It was a tranqulizer of some kind. What the hell was going on?

He wanted to get up, but there were more darts now, whistling through the air. Angel was a sight to see, ducking and weaving and jumping over them as best he could. Dean couldn’t even see the freaking things, yet somehow, Angel was avoiding them all. He picked up a large stick, and used it as a bat, swatting at the fragile projectiles. 

It seemed to last forever, until finally, whoever was firing seemed to decide it was a waste of ammunition. 

“Get inside!”hissed Dean. They’d definitely need better protections. There was no time though, as black suited men emerged from the woods in a circle formation, guns raised. Angel’s wings flared and he launched himself upward. He could grab Dean and be away in moments. Or he could have. If they hadn’t been anticipating his every move. A net dropped from where it had been hidden among the leaves, knocking him to the ground and trapping him.

Dean yelled, trying to run to his friend, even as Angel struggled out of the net, swinging his stick wildly. Dean jumped on the back of one of the men as Angel got to his feet, wings puffed and wild. He swung the stick, sending it crashing into the ribs of one of the men and sending him actually _sailing_ away, knocking him a good eight feet away from where Angel stood. Dean was rather impressed, until he found the wind knocked out of him, as the black-suited man slammed his back into a tree to make Dean relinquish his choke hold.

They converged on Angel, who used his wings as weapons themselves, Dean saw, gasping for breath, with...at least two cracked ribs, he thought. But Angel would get low, and swing the wing, catching men in stomachs or necks and sending them stumbling back. If he used the stick, he could knock them several feet away. Dean had known his friend was strong, but he hadn’t known quite how strong until now. 

But as strong as he was, he wasn’t a practiced fighter, and he was vastly outnumbered. Someone got a rope around his neck, and it was the beginning of the end. Dean tried to get up, but the man who he’d tried to choke out slammed the butt of his gun down on Dean’s head, knocking him slightly senseless. “Dean!” Angel yelled, distracted. 

Dean watched, through slightly blurred vision, as the man who’d gotten the noose around Angel’s neck yanked backward, sending the winged-man to the ground, gasping. In seconds four darts pierced his flesh, two in his wings, one in his leg, and one in his neck. 

Angel’s struggles didn’t stop, but they slowed, became weaker. His stick whacked against someone’s face, and he stumbled, blood streaming from a broken nose but he didn’t fly back as others had. Several of them used more rope to tie his wrists and ankles, and they bound him in the net again. They ignored Dean entirely, as they pulled their captive away.

Angel struggled weakly. “Dean!” he called, voice tiny and pathetic. “Dean! De-” he was cut off by another dart and a kick to the stomach. 

Dean saw grey, and then nothing.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&  
“They found him.” The woman glanced up at the man, raised her eyebrows.

“They found who?” she asked.

“Don’t play dumb,” he snapped. “I realize, for you, it might not be an act so much as a lifestyle, but we’ve gone too far for you to get coy now.”

“Whatever,” she stood, and stretched. “So what now? If they’ve taken him back to the Company…”

“They haven’t. He’s all caged up in the middle of town. I think Lilith is going to make an example of him.”

“So...we wait?” she asked. “Till little Clarence is on the move? We can’t get him if he’s back in the Company grounds.”

“We need him free. So we are gonna help him get free. You’re gonna make him trust you. We just have to go about it in a different way than our original plan.” 

She scowled at him. “And you? What are you doing in all of this?”

“I am playing my part.” He tapped the dog on the head. “We’ve been working.”

“That Company flunkie?” she asked. Was he still going on about that? As far as she was concerned, Bela Talbot was yesterday’s news. “You get the ‘official reason they canned her?”

“Contract terminated.” He sighed. “I miss the days when contracts meant deals. First thing I’ll change.”

“I’m sure,” she muttered, flopping down again. She couldn’t wait until she didn’t have to work with this slimy bastard anymore. She hated salesmen. She hated Lilith more. “Well. So long as you keep your promise to me once this damn farce is over.”

“I always keep my promises,” he said loftily. “Now. Get ready to go. We start moving tonight.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The world came back to him in blurred shapes and noise first. The first thing he was fully aware of, were the cuffs around his wrists. He panicked then, trying to pull free of them even before he was entirely sure of where he was. 

“See how it struggles?” came a voice, cold, triumphant. He stilled. He knew that voice. “It is a violent creature, no matter how peaceful it looked when sleeping. It is a monster. And this is why you need us. We protect you from creatures like this.”

His vision was still spotty, his hearing still felt like it was working underwater, but he glared at Lilith. The chain was back around his neck again. He thought he might cry. Breathing was already harder. 

“Creatures like this are good for nothing. We thought we could learn from it, discover why it does the things it does, but all it did was cause an earthquake and let itself and others like it escape. It lives to cause destruction.”

“No,” he managed. “No, I never hurt anyone.” He coughed, tried to stand, but his muscles were still as weak as a kitten. 

“It lies,” said Lilith, teeth bared in a horrifying facsimile of a grin. “I have proof.” She gestured, and a large device was brought forward. Angel wasn’t sure what it was, but the humans didn’t seem surprised by it. Lilith pushed a button, and Angel watched in horror as he saw himself on the screen, lashing out with a stick and his wings. The worst part was the way that the images started, with one black suited man coming up slowly, saying ‘Easy now, we don’t wanna hurt you.’” 

_That didn’t happen_ he wanted to say. _It never happened_ But the audience seemed to believe it. The video was edited carefully so it looked like his attacks were vicious and unprovoked. 

“We will be taking it back to the Facility tomorrow evening for termination,” said Lilith, calmly.   
“In the meantime, learn from this. Perhaps we can all learn a lesson in not trusting things as they appear.” 

No one seemed to think that this applied to Lilith herself or the video, noted Angel. Just him. 

“Where’s Dean?” he asked. He didn’t want to get his friend in trouble, but if they’d hurt him more….Angel really didn’t want to think about that. The thought almost hurt _him_ , thinking about how they’d smashed Dean on the head. 

“You mean that poor boy you brainwashed into following you around like a puppy?” asked Lilith. “He won’t be coming back.”

That’s what they had said about Mary, he thought wildly. He didn’t remember a lot from that time, but he remembered the despair that had come with that sentence. He slumped to the floor of the Cage.

He wouldn’t be escaping this one, he thought. Not ever. He tried to make himself as small as possible, covering himself with his wings. It wasn’t effective. It didn’t take long for two of the Company men (and he had to admit, the fact that he had no idea where Alistair or Azazel were was uncomfortable). But they pulled the shackles that held his wrists, pinning him prostrate on the ground. “Teach you to run,” hissed one, with a hard kick to the ribs.

“My brother’s in ICU because of you!” yelled the other. “See how you like it!” They took turns, howling insults and accusations, punctuated by kicks, or occasionally, whips with the loose bit of chain. No one stopped them.

Until finally, Lilith held up her hand. “Enough,” she said. “He’ll be here all night. “

“He didn’t fight back,” someone whispered.

“I told you, he’s trying to trick you,” snapped Lilith. “He wants you to feel sorry for him, but it is an act.”

Angel curled into himself, and willed himself not to cry. He should have known that freedom was too good to be true.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

Ruby glowered at Azazel, arms tightly folded. “I’m doing my part dipwad,” she said. “He’s good and hooked now. It isn’t my fault he went to college and met some blonde tramp. He’s not ready to use anyone else’s blood yet.” She had been working on this for literally years, biding her time, getting close to Sam, on occasion dripping blood into his drinks or food even when they’d been children. She’d gone through fucking puberty. Again. How dare this asshole say she wasn’t doing her part?

“Then we’ll just have to bleed you,” sneered the older man. 

“Why not you?” she snapped back. “Or your boy toy Alistair over there? Lilith is still pissed at you for letter her Angel-pet out, isn’t she?” She smirked when she saw how that affected the other. “Oh, you thought I wouldn’t find out what this is about? I mean, your girl avoided my house, but I knew she was here. The grocery store biddies chat. Some Company girl sneaking around, looking for a winged-monster? And I found proof before that bitch did that Dean keeps sneaking off to see him. Sammy was talkative about it.” She had them on the back foot now, even if she wasn’t being fully truthful. They didn’t have to know that. 

“Bela Talbot’s contract was terminated,” said Azazel calmly. Ruby knew he was getting her back, but the calm way he said it was unnerving. “You know what that means. Do pray that Lilith doesn’t decide yours has come due as well.”

“You can’t sic your fucking pets on me,” she snapped. “It won’t work”

“Doesn’t have to,” he said. “And they aren’t my pets,” he continued. “That salesmen trains them.”

Ruby sneered. “I’m sure. I’m doing my job. It isn’t my fault Lilith moved all the dates up. You think I wouldn’t feel it when she sent Eve out? Why the hell would she do that?”

“Why should I tell you?” he asked. “You’re just a whore and a dealer. Get him prepared, or we’ll find someone else who is willing to go the whole way.” 

Ruby glowered, then turned and went back inside Bobby’s house. Sam, were he in his right mind wouldn’t like the company she brought here. But no one else was home and honestly...Sam wasn’t all there anymore either. It wasn’t nearly as fun as it had used to be. 

“All so a jumped up princess can have a fucking power trip,” she muttered. The egos on some of these people. She hated the ‘royals.’ Just because they were the _first…._ Ruby took a deep breath, and painted a smile on her face. Sam was waiting.

 

Sam was starting to feel...a bit bad, for how he and Ruby had treated Jess. He liked her, he knew that. Jess was his friend. His best friend. Why had he let Ruby...his brain seemed to twist then, bending….everything went fuzzy. Ruby was what was important, obviously. It had been rude of Jess to interrupt like that. It wasn’t any of her business, he thought. And if he asked Ruby to come back to Stanford with him, well. She was his girlfriend. It only made sense, right? That settled, he watched Ruby padding across the room to him. Bobby and Jess weren’t here, out looking for Dean or something. Or some commotion in town. He wanted to tell them that Dean was probably just out boning Angel. Except no one was meant to know about Angel. Those thoughts were driven from his mind though, as he grinned loosely at the brunette swaying toward him.   
“Hey gorgeous,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss him. The first kiss was soft, gentle. Things quickly moved up a gear, and soon, the kisses were hard and fast, and soon Rub was underneath Sam, breathing hard, and a small triumphant smile on her face as Sam used a small knife she’d given him to cut into her arm and drink. It was a very special knife, spelled so as to actually make her bleed. It even hurt when he cut into her. Apparently, it was supposed to make the ritual work better, when they got to it. She didn’t mind the pain so much, in fact, she even liked it. It lasted longer with this knife than with anything else she could use to cut herself to allow Sam to drink anyway. 

There was a strangled noise from the bedroom door, open now, with Jess framed in the frame, looking a mix between horrified and terrified. Sam’s head came up slowly, and he turned to see her, blood still painting his lips. “Oh god,” she breathed. “What...what have you done?” She turned to look at Ruby now, and stumbled back as the other woman’s eyes flashed an inky black. Jess might have thought she was imagining it, but the dazed look in Sam’s eyes and the hateful, murderous look on Ruby’s face confused and frightened her. She turned and fled.

Ruby leapt up from the bed and flung open the window. “I know you’re still there!” she called out, frantic. “Kill her!” 

Sam stared at Ruby like he’d never seen her before, hand edging, almost unconsciously, toward the knife on the edge of the bed.

Jess flung herself into her car, panicked, heart hammering. She peeled away from the curb just as a hard looking man emerged from behind the house, watching her go. Ruby was still half leaning out of the window. 

She didn’t think anyone was following her now, but she was shaking all the same. Ruby...Ruby wanted her _dead_? When had that happened? Jess had defended her, even if she hadn’t liked her much. She pulled over to the side of the road, and clutched at her sides, practically hyperventilating as she tried not to sob.

**************************************************************************************************************************************

Angel lay in the cage, doubled over on himself, not daring to look up. There were a few guards, he knew, preventing anyone from getting close. He heard a brief altercation, but nothing came of it. Perhaps Dean had tried to get in. 

At the thought of Dean, Angel curled up a bit tighter, trying to hold back a sob. 

He didn’t notice the black smoke filtering into the cage, twisting and solidifying into the short, lithe frame of a young brunette. He bucked frantically though, when a cool hand slipped over his mouth.

“Cool it Angel-face,” crooned the woman. “I’m here to help.” He glared at her suspiciously. She rolled her eyes. “Hi, I’m Meg, I’m a demon.” His face contorted a bit more, fear and distrust in his features. He’d read about demons of course, but hadn’t anticipated them really. Why should he even believe her? He twisted again, but her hold was strong. “Relax, I’m one of the nice ones.” She smirked. “Okay, that’s a lie, but at least I’m on your side. Now. Are you gonna let me fix you up?”

After a moment, he nodded slowly. At least it would get her to remove her hand. 

“Good.” She sat back, shoving her hair out of her face. “They really did a number on you, didn’t they Clarence?”

“That isn’t…”

“Isn’t what, your name?” Meg snickered. “You don’t know your name Angel-cakes. Neither do I, but what the hell. At least Clarence is an actual name. He’s even the name of an Angel, if you trust the lovely world of celluloid.”

Angel licked his lips. “What do you want?”

“For now? To fix you up a bit. I’m no healer. Like I said, demon. But I can help it a bit. It’s amazing what some cool water will do.” She waved her water bottle at him, and pulled a small cloth from her jacket pocket. “I’m just gonna clean you off a bit, okay? Tell me if it hurts.”

They were silent for a long while, Meg carefully dripping the water on the cloth and wiping at his cuts and bruises, clearing off the dirt and blood as best she could. She ran out of water before she could get to his legs. “I can bring more,” she said with a lewd grin, fingers brushing at the inside of his thigh. “I can see there’s more injuries. That loincloth you got there doesn’t cover much, does it?” She leaned closer, even as he leaned away a bit. 

“I had jeans,” he said, a bit frantically. “I couldn’t get to them, they were wet from being washed and-”

“Shh,” whispered Meg, finger to his lips. “I didn’t say I minded.” She let her gaze drag up and down his frame appreciatively. 

“If you are a demon, why do you want to help me?” he asked. “Or help anyone?”

“Because,” she shrugged. “To be honest, you are a means to an end. I’ve been on the run for a while, and honestly? At the moment you are the only one that can upset the current power structure, especially the way things are going.”

“The power structure?”

“Yeah, of hell. Not everyone likes how things are going there you know.”

“You want me to stage a coup….of _hell_?”

“Doy, Clarence. You might be powered down, but you’re the only angel we’ve got, and even a broken angel can trump a demon.” 

“I’m not an actual angel, it’s just what Mary called me. Because of my wings.”

“Really? You thought you just _had_ them?” she snorted. “You might be less useful than I thought, if you’re that stupid.”

“I’m an unknown,” he insisted. “An unknown breed of monster, but there have been others, with wings.”

“Yeah, mutated skinwalkers, and harpies and things like that. Hate to break it to you feathers, but you are an honest to goodness angel. How do you think you knew Enochian? Or how you managed to survive your years at the Company? I’ve seen your files,you should have been dead like, a hundred times.”

“You’re insane,” he replied, wrapping his arms around his legs, and his wings around them both. “You’re just...you’re some kind of monster too, that can shift through walls or something, and you’re insane.”

“Not just any monster,” she sighed. “A demon. And I’m not the only demon you know.” He looked up at her. “There are several others you’ve met. Just think about it. I’ll be back tomorrow. We’re gonna get you out, alright Angel? We just need a bit more time. And a few allies.” She grinned. “Sit tight Clarence. Don’t let the monsters get you down.” 

Her form twisted and shivered, and then seemed to explode into a column of black smoke and raced away through the bars and out of sight. 

Angel stared, even after he couldn’t see her anymore. A demon, he thought, numbly. A demon named Meg that wants to help me. Because she thinks I can help her later, but nonetheless….she’d said he was an angel. He wished it were true.

****************************************************************************************************************************************************

Dean came to himself slowly. The first thing he did when he was fully aware of his surroundings was to shout for Angel. The action made his head hurt. He stood slowly, looking around to see if he could find any trace of his friend.

All there was, he found, was the remnants of the fight. A few broken darts, a bloodied stick, scuff marks on the ground. 

“Angel!” he called, though he knew it was pointless. 

He went into the shack and took Sam’s knife. Angel had kept it in good condition, even added a few protections, Dean noticed. Enochian, etched into the metal. It had already been spelled, made with a mix of silver and iron to ensure maximum creature damage, but some of these sigils….Dean didn’t know what they meant, but the knife practically hummed in his hand. 

He started limping down the trail. He had to find ….someone. Someone had to help him, surely. It was growing dark though, in the woods. He’d been gone for more than a day now. Bobby would be worried, though hopefully, he wouldn’t think Angel had done anything. God, was it really only yesterday that Bobby had met the winged man for the first time?

Dean couldn’t bring himself to think of Angel as a monster, regardless of the shit they’d shoved into his brain since the time he’d not been older than three. Angel was fundamentally _good_ and if ‘monster’ just meant ‘not human’ then Dean thought it was time the definition changed.

He emerged from the woods in time to see a car squealing away. He retreated almost immediately into the forest, hiding as best he could. He saw Ruby leaning out the window, though he couldn’t hear what she was saying. A man slipped around the side of the house, watching the car vanish. Dean thought he recognized the head inside as Jessica’s. 

“Jesus,” he whispered. A hand closed around his bicep. 

“Not quite,” drawled a quiet voice, southern accent thick and calm, though with a steely, cruel edge. “Think opposite end of the spectrum there.”

He was brutally wrenched backwards, and slammed against a tree, only to see a rather unassuming, milky-eyed man staring calmly back at him. 

If Dean only had a split second to glance at the man, he might think he had cataracts. But...but no. His eyes were simply white. Until he blinked, slowly, with the intent of freaking Dean out, turning the eyes blue again. Normal eyes. 

“You’re the one befriended our favorite monster, aren’t you?” he asked, stepping back. Dean remained pinned to the tree, with the man examining him curiously. 

“Don’t look like much. Bit familiar….” his eyes lit up. “Winchester,” he said. “Mary’s brat.” He laughed hoarsely. “Looks like you grew up just like her. Weak. Unable to see all the possibilities.” He stood back on his heels, his grin widening. “We had to let her go.”

“She died in a fire,” ground out Dean, struggling against bonds he couldn’t see. “A house fire.”

“Oh yes,” he said. “Fire’s are Azazel’s specialty you know. “ 

Dean stilled. “You killed her?”

“No, not me,” said the man pleasantly. “Like you said. She died in in a fire.” 

Dean’s struggles renewed, and the man threw up a hand, and Dean found himself slamming back against the tree, unable to move at all now. “I’m Alistair. Azazel...must be his upbringing, but he don’t like blood. Don’t like spilling it much. Not a fan of seeing what people’s _insides_ look like when they are _outside_. Me? I like to pull ‘em out slow. Show people what their intestines look like. Their spleens. Livers. Pancreas.” As he spoke, the organs he mentioned seemed to tighten in Dean’s body, throbbing painfully. 

“Pain’s _my_ specialty, you see.” 

Dean groaned. He could feel the knife pressing against the small of his back. He needed to regain his movement, and soon. 

“What the fuck are you?” he managed to grind out.

“What am I?” asked the man, rotating his hand slightly. Dean cried out, as it felt like his insides twisted. “I guess you might call me...demonic in origin. I am a torturer. I am….a creator. A teacher. I’m a lot of things, Winchester. You can call me Alistair. I think I’m going to have fun with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait guys.  
> As it is, I am not super happy with how this chapter turned out, so I'll probably go back and do edits later. 
> 
> The Enochian in this chapter translates to basically 'quit this place' which I am stretching to mean 'leave this place.' Angel is trying to stop any animals from disturbing the body. 
> 
> And I've changed how the demons are a bit. In this universe, they don't really possess people, though they can. They have their own bodies, but often have various powers . Meg can turn herself into smoke and travel that way.   
> Ruby's powers, as we've seen from other chapters, involve a certain amount of mind control and witchcraft, as well as an understanding of blood magic.
> 
> And I do have a plan for what they need Sam to be hooked on blood for, though it isn't the same reason as in the show.


	10. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically....a lot of bloodshed in this chapter. 
> 
> Directly after the last chapter, and there is a lot of bloodshed.
> 
> Some body horror too.

Dean managed a glare at the man...demon...whatever he was in front of him. “Angel told me about you,” he said. “He told me all the things you did to him. You--you’re sick.”

Alistair laughed. “If my little pet told me about me, then you know what I am capable of. Only...I don’t think you’ll heal quite so fast as he does.”

Dean swallowed. Alistair grinned, and suddenly, Dean fell. He landed on his hands and knees, and managed to twist, rolling to his back, still trembling slightly. “I do like ‘em wriggling,” confessed Alistair. “Bit of a weakness of mine.” Dean felt himself being dragged, though Alistair hadn’t moved. He struck out weakly, but Alistair just grabbed his hand and slammed it onto the ground. “Don’t think you can hurt me boy,” he whispered, breath, vile, sulphuric, tickling in Dean’s ear. “I’m nothing you’ve ever experienced.”

“No?” growled Dean, fingers closing in on the hilt of the knife. He scratched himself bringing it forward, but he plunged it into Alistair’s eye, hilt deep. 

The scream that tore from the creature was unlike anything Dean had ever heard. He twisted the knife, even as he scrambled away from the now smoking body. Whatever Angel had done had apparently had more of an effect than Dean had anticipated. 

Alistair’s body twisted and seemed to shiver, his skin bulging horribly, something trickling out of his mouth, yellow and pus-like even as his eye bled sluggish and black. The stench that came from him was almost unbearable, and Dean gagged, stumbling back further. Alistairs features were darkening, blackening. He choked and gasped, and horrible gashes were opening everywhere on his body, blood streaming out, steaming where it fell on the ground. 

All in all, it probably took about half a minute, maybe as long as forty-five seconds, but it felt like hours. 

Finally, Alistair lay still, his corpse a terrible mummification of what had been every inch what appeared to be a hale and hearty forty-five year old man. Dean approached slowly. He didn’t want to get close, not really….but if the knife could do that….well. Alistair hadn’t come on his own. There had been the man Ruby was after, chasing Jessica. 

And Azazel….if that’s who it had been….Azazel had killed his mother. There’d be hell to pay for that. He wiped the knife off on his jacket (it was basically ruined anyway), and winced as the blood stained it, still smoking a bit, and stinking like a chemistry class accident. 

The man that had been skulking around the house earlier was gone, but Dean was careful going inside anyway. 

He slipped up to Sam’s room, trying to prepare himself for what he might find there. The smell was almost overpowering here too, but he might just be imagining it. Remembering from before...and he did have Alistairs blood on him…..

Dean pushed open the door, knife ready, and stared. Sam stood against the wall, wearing only his boxers; pale and shaking and white as a sheet. He’d been sick, Dean noticed, Mostly on the bed. _Gross_ was his first, sort of ironic thought. “Sammy?” he said, quietly, roughly.

“She was going to kill Jess…” croaked Sam, his own voice strained and thin. “She wanted someone to kill her because she…” He gagged again. “She wasn’t….she wasn’t human, I swear it Dean, I swear it, oh god…”

Dean moved around the bed, and saw Ruby, a knife sticking out of her abdomen, with similar markings on it to Angel’s knife. She looked much the same as Alistair did, only less bloody. She was skeletal, her eyes were gone, her lips receded to show her teeth in a macabre grin. Her hair was dry and brittle, nothing like the shine Dean usually saw in it. 

Her skin was cracked and blackened, missing in parts, showing bone and muscle. It looked a bit as if she had half melted before mummifying, with the odd contortions in her face.

“Jesus, Sammy,” he muttered. “You were fucking that?” There was a sound of gagging from behind him, and Sam was throwing up again. Dean was alarmed to see it was red in color.

“Oh my god,” he said. “Oh my god, you...blood, god Sam, we have to get you to a hospital…”

“Hers….” managed Sam.

“What?” That...that didn’t make sense at all.

“Her blood. I...I drank it.” He sounded dazed, confused. “Why did I….she said it would make me strong. I...had a purpose…”

“Goddamn it Sam! You didn’t think that fucking _blood_ drinking sounded a bit off?”

“I couldn’t!” Sam’s voice was stronger now. “I couldn’t...I couldn’t think of anything but her! Her voice was always in my head.” He clutched at it now, fingers lost in his unruly hair. “I would be thinking of something else and then my thoughts twisted around back to her again and...I killed her. I killed her Dean. I loved her and I killed her and….and she was going to kill Jess and…” Sam was in shock, thought Dean. 

“Come on,” he said, tugging at Sam’s arm. “Come on. We’re getting outta here. She was a psycho bitch, didn’t I always tell you that? Granted, I assumed she was a human psycho bitch.” He led Sam out of the room. “Fool me once, you know? We’ll be on the lookout. We’ll figure out how to tell who’s a demon and shit, okay?”

“Demon?” asked Sam, vaguely. 

“Yeah, apparently that’s what she was. Demon. Nasty right? Ten kinds of fucked up. But...but I guess it means it wasn’t totally your fault, right? I mean, we didn’t know what to look for.” 

Sam still looked sick, even as Dean led him down the stairs to the kitchen. 

“I’ll get you water,” he said. “And then you need to shower and….shit. We need to find the other guy.”

“She called him Azazel,” murmured Sam, taking the glass. “She said ‘Azazel will take care of it’ and came back to bed as if nothing was….” He stood suddenly, panicked. “Jess! He’s after her!” 

“Calm down,” instructed Dean. “I’ll grab you some clothes. We need to find Jess before Azazel does and rescue Angel before they cart him away.” He ran his hands over his face. “Jesus, shit, I almost forgot. Does that make me horrible?” 

Sam came first, obviously, but to almost forget about Angel entirely...that couldn’t be allowed to happen. That was just...horrible. 

“Angel? They got him?”

“Buncha guys in black, ambushed us,” he said tiredly.

“God,” he whispered. “I told her about him. It’s my fault.”

Dean stiffened, then relaxed a little. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Not totally. “That creepy company lady was around. She took pictures of him.” He swallowed. “She knew mom apparently. She was there when Angel was a kid...along with that Azazel guy. Alistair…” he swallowed. “Alistair said that Azazel killed mom, Sammy. He killed her because...because she was in the way or something.”

Sam was still looking a little stunned, though whether it was from this bombshell, or the one where it turned out his girlfriend was a demon and also mind controlling him, Dean couldn’t be sure. 

“Get some clothes on,” he instructed. “I’ll try to get in touch with Bobby. We need to work out a plan.”

****************************************************************************************************************

Bobby Singer was having a horrible time of it. He’d left Dean, against his better judgement, with ‘Angel.’ a man with wings, who was apparently not a monster, despite definitely not being human. And really, the creature had been more pitiful than anything, and far too skinny. Which was something that Bobby didn’t really feel like he needed to know.

But then Dean never returned home, and Sam was out too...doing horrible things probably, with that horrible Ruby. Jess had agreed to at least help him look for Dean, but...it had been all night and a good portion of the afternoon, and he hadn’t seen any of the three of them--not Jess, not Dean, not Sam.

He was on the verge of calling John again, ‘your boys are missing and up to no good, where the fuck are you’ being the gist of the intended phone call, but the police sirens distracted him. 

For once, he followed the rubberneckers, the civilians that didn’t really have any sort of idea about monsters. He told himself it wasn’t any of his boys (or the girl), it couldn’t be any of them. 

It wasn’t. 

Still, what he saw wasn’t what he expected either. Angel, bound and gagged and trussed up like a pig, being dragged in a net, skin rubbed raw on the concrete, to be thrown into a big cage, that definitely hadn’t been there the day before.

A cold looking woman stood tall in front of the cage. “Monsters,” she said, calmly. “Exist. My company specializes in taking them in. And putting them down, to protect you people here,” she gestured. “And all over the world.” She made a motion with her hand, and the men started cutting away the net, clasping shackles and a collar onto the creature inside the cage. 

“This….this isn’t a joke,” she said, showing off his wings. “This is a monstrous creature, despite it’s homely appearance.”

She went on, getting louder and louder, her words turning more vicious it seemed, as the winged-man woke. He tried to defend himself, and she brought forth a large tablet, much bigger than anything he’d seen before, and soon a video was playing. A video of Angel fighting, seemingly for his life against men in black suits. He thought he saw a crumpled denim wrapped figure in the background of some shots. His chest seemed to freeze.

After the video, they took turns torturing the poor monster inside the cage. The civilians seemed to trust every word that the woman, Lilith, apparently, said. Even when someone suggested that Angel wasn’t fighting back, Lilith indicated that it was all a clever ruse. 

Bobby seriously doubted that. He didn’t think that Angel would know a lie if it bit him. He didn’t seem that sort of person. And if he was really evil, he’d have done something to Dean long ago. He’d certainly have had the time.

Bobby left with the others. If Dean was in the woods, he meant to find him. 

Unfortunately, that didn’t seem in the cards. He was walking back to his home, still about a mile out, when he saw Jess’ car. He hurried up to it, and tapped on the window. The girl inside screamed.

Bobby jumped back and Jess stared out at him, with a tear-stained, pale face. She opened her car door with trembling hands. “She wants me dead,” she whispered. “I...I saw her and Sam and...and I ran but she yelled for someone to...to _kill_ me.” She almost didn’t believe it anymore herself. But she’d seen Ruby’s face….distorted and horrible and filled with unspeakable hate. 

“I can’t go back there, Bobby, I can’t but...she’s still got Sam in there,” she shivered. “He was...god. What does it mean when a person drinks another person’s blood?” she asked, quietly.

Bobby stilled. “You are sure?” he asked. “That’s what you saw?”

“I...yes,” she whispered. “Am I crazy? I mean...it’s been a weird few days and...her face...it didn’t look human.”

“Pointy teeth?” asked Bobby, tension in his voice.

“What? No,” she said. “Her teeth were normal. It was her eyes.” She closed her own. “They were black, Bobby. Black all around, and...she really wanted that man to kill me.”

“Come on,” said Bobby. “We’ll get back in the car and go somewhere safe, yeah? Rufus Turner, who owns the hardware store? He’s got a bit of a safe house going on.” He got into her passenger seat. “You can do that for me yeah?”

She sniffed and nodded, turning the car ignition on with shaking hands. She could do that. Get them to a safe place. She trusted Bobby, as bad tempered as he often was. He’d basically raised Sam and Dean, she knew, and Sam could hardly shut up about him. She was worried, about Sam, about what Ruby was doing to him, about what he was doing to her….of course he hadn’t been drinking her blood, Jess told herself. That would be...it would be insane.

*********8 8********  
Sam and Dean made it into town with no problems. It worried Dean how easy it was. Once they got there though….that’s when the trouble started. 

There were guards, which was concerning. Apparently, there was a monster brought in, and no one was allowed near the cage unless they were with Company officials. 

Dean very nearly got into a fight with the guard telling them about it, but Sam pulled him away. “You won’t be able to help Angel if you are hurt or locked up, Dean,” he hissed. “First we have to find Jess and Bobby.”

“And kill Azazel,” said Dean. “You have your knife?” Sam looked a bit sick, but he nodded. 

“Dean...I think….I think Ruby’s blood did something. To me.”

Dean stiffened. “I don’t know that I wanna hear this right now,” he warned. “We got more important things to think about.”

“It might be important--” began Sam.

“No,” said Dean. “Finding Bobby, finding Jess, freeing Angel. Whatever fucked up shit you and Ruby did can wait.”

“She was a demon,” hissed Sam. “I drank her _demon blood_ Dean. Don’t you think that might have bad effects on a person?”

“Damn it,” muttered Dean. “Fine, but can it wait till we find Jess and Bobby at least?”

Sam sighed. “Fine,” he agreed. There was a noise from the cage-area. Dean couldn’t even see it from here, but he wanted to go anyway. He needed to find Angel, apologize. 

He’d promised he’d never let him back in a cage, he promised to protect him. He’d failed. He’d failed his friend, and he refused to let that stand.

“We’ll get him back,” said Sam softly. “Come on. Rufus knows about the whole hunter thing. He might at least have an idea where someone might find Bobby and Jess.”

“How cute,” said a droll voice. 

God _damn_ it. “Do you freaks get off on popping up behind people?” snapped Dean, whirling to face the monster. He looked normal. Just like an normal human being. 

“I know what you are,” he said. “I know what you’ve done.”

“I seriously doubt that,” said Azazel, flicking his wrist casually and sending Dean flying into the side of a nearby building. Music store, he noted absently. “You’ve never encountered anything like me.” He smiled, advancing on Sam. “You aren’t as prepared as we might have liked,” he told the taller man. “But I think I’ll root on you all the same.”

Sam’s hand tightened around his knife. “You’re despicable,” he hissed.

“Oh dear,” said Azazel rolling his eyes. “You do know how to cut me to the quick, dear boy.” He sighed. “We will have to train that out of you. Or...well, I don’t know that we even need to,” he grinned. Dean was sneaking up from behind him, knife in hand. 

Sam gave no indication, but glared at Azazel. “You killed my mother,” he said. “You are going to kill my best friend.”

“True,” agreed Azazel. “Though...less because that whore told me to. I don’t answer to Ruby. But...we need you Sam. If the best way of getting to you isn’t through your baser desires….perhaps breaking your heart will work.” 

His wrist flicked out again, and Dean went stiff, fighting for breath. Sam rushed Azazel, who sent him careening into Dean without so much as a blink. Dean was still choking on air. “What have you done to him?” demanded Sam.

“Closed off his airways,” was the reply. “He’ll die in a matter of minutes. I might not have Alistair’s talent for torture, but I do know how to kill people. I even rather enjoy it, sometimes. And you Winchesters have been a thorn in my side for a long fucking time.” He shook his head. “Humans. You don’t know how to look at the big picture.”

“Oh?” snapped Sam. “And when demons rule the world, how does that look for humans?”  
“Not good, admittedly,” said Azazel, almost cheerfully. “But you, Sam. You would be elevated to the highest honors. Royalty, in the new order.”

“What about Dean?” He demanded. “What about Bobby or Jess or...what about them?”

“That depends on you. Do what we say, and we’ll let them live.”

“You’re lying.” 

Dean was still gagging, face starting to turn alarmingly purple. 

“Maybe,” agreed Azazel. “But how do you know?”

Sam threw the knife at him. Azazel caught it. “Very nice,” he said, appreciatively. “It’ll do for a demon. But me?” He shook his head. “Sorry. No dice, kiddo.” He advanced on the two brothers. “It’s unfortunate,” he said. “I’d hoped I didn’t have to hurt you. But Lilith won’t care if you are a bit damaged. So long as you are more or less intact.”

He twisted on hand and Dean jerked suddenly. Sam gave a shout and, with Dean’s knife, lunged up, knife plunging into Azazel. He twisted, pulled down, and yanked the knife out. Azazel stared, shaking slightly, as he stared at the blood, the gaping hole in his stomach. And he vanished. 

Sam shook Dean, frantic, listening for a pulse. Dean coughed, rolling to his side, coughing and retching. 

“He’s gone,” murmured Sam. “I stabbed him and he’s gone. For now.” Thank god, he thought. Thank god Thankgodthankgodthankgodthankgod. Dean was alright.

******************** *****************************************************************************************

Azazel stood before Lilith, hand clutched over his stomach.

“So,” she said coldly, “let me get this straight. You let Ruby die. Alistair is also dead. Sam is aware of what was done to him, and yet he is allowed to run free with his brother...and you come to me anyway?”

“Lilith, they have a knife that can do _this_.” He was pale and drawn, face lined in pain. “If they can do this to me, just imagine what they can do to you.”

“I don’t need to imagine what they will do to me,” she hissed, fury shining in her eyes. She plunged one perfectly manicured hand into Azazel’s wound. “You are a mutation,” she seethed. “You have proven yourself worse than useless. I gave you one last chance after you let that angel escape you fucking _fool._ ” Azazel screamed as her hand twisted inside him. “You used that chance to almost single handedly destroy everything I’ve been working to build. And you dared to return to me in disgrace, when I have only ever required perfection.” Her mouth hardened. “Camera, on,” she said suddenly. “Watch,” she hissed, forcing his eyes to the screen. “Your fucking daughter,” she whispered in his ear. “Your daughter, with whom you shared information, is helping my angel. She plots against us. And you brought her in.”

“I’ll kill her myself,” he gasped out, “I won’t fail again.”

“No,” said Lilith, calmly. “You won’t.” And she plunged her hand deeper into his wound, and, fingers grasped around her prize, ripped. There was a scream and and sick orange light. Lilith looked passively at Azazel’s body, his blood dripping from her elbow down to the floor. “I’ll take care it myself,” she said, bringing her hand up and taking a bite from his heart like it was an apple.


	11. Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet some new people! Or rather, our heroes meet some new people.  
> Plans are discussed and also, hatched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long?  
> Real life happened, then I had writers block, then I just couldn't bring myself to do any writing on the computer.
> 
> I don't know if anyone is even reading this. Or looking for updates. Or cares.  
> But....if there is anyone....I am sorry.  
> Hopefully the fact that it is a long chapter is good? And that it is not mind bogglingly boring.

They came the next morning in droves. Angel supposed it was an interesting factoid about humans that curiosity could outweigh fear.

He pulled his wings tight against his back, and tried not to look at any of them. Still, he saw the rock, sailing at him out of the corner of his eye. Likely, it was thrown by a Company guard, as the civilians wouldn’t be quite to that...point yet, of throwing things at him. 

He flung his hand up, catching the projectile before it could crack him in the head, his heart pounding in his chest. He tossed the rock aside, and the crowd seemed to lean back. 

Interesting.

He stood slowly, reading the growing fear in their faces. The cage wasn’t big enough to spread his wings fully, as his wingspan had grown during his freedom, stretching close to twenty feet now. Still, he spread them as wide as he could, and managed to look rather imposing. At least, until a Company guard grabbed at the chain and tugged, sending Angel stumbling. 

The Company man shoved a spear like device (cattle prod? he wasn’t sure) through the bars. Angel panicked, remembering Alistairs treatments and grabbed the shaft, pulling it, smashing the guards fingers against the bars. He snapped it as easily he would a stick, and dropped the pieces to the floor.

A cold voice rang out. “You see for yourself. It reacts with brute strength and violence any attempt to temper or control it.” Angel swallowed, meeting the pale gaze of Lilith. Her lips seemed redder than usual. Perhaps it was his imagination. 

He didn’t manage to meet her eyes for long. His face flamed, and he could practically feel her triumph when he dropped his eyes.

It was a long day. They beat him, and badly, worse than before. It still wasn’t as bad as it could have been when it was Alistair doing the beating. Still, it was very stressful, not knowing when the man would show up. 

Angel tried not to move, or make any noise throughout the beating. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. He curled into himself, eyes closed. A voice seemed to drift through the haze in his mind.

- _You are my sunshine  
my only sunshine- _  
He sank into that voice, letting it surround him like a cloud. He hadn’t even known he remembered this song, but he could hear her sing, and an image of honey colored hair and loving brown eyes, that smile whenever she looked at him...he let it wash away the pain, Mary’s voice, her song, like waves, drowning out everything else.

- _You’ll never know dear,  
how much I love you  
Please don’t take  
my sunshine away._ -

Brown eyes shifted in his memory, morphing into green ones. He hadn’t expected that, really. But Dean’s arms, in his mind, felt just as safe as Mary’s, even if they weren’t as soft. 

He held onto that, the feeling of safety, of being _loved_ , of Dean and Mary Winchester. He sank deep inside himself, barely noticing the changing time. 

As he stopped reacting, so did the audience. By that night, they had all disappeared. The guards were somewhere, he knew, but out of eyeshot. They didn’t really like being too close to him. He was pretty sure they’d been told he could manipulate their minds.

A cold hand touched his bare shoulder. He jumped slightly--this one was different than the others. He looked up to the brown eyes and knowing smirk of Meg.

“Cute song Clarence. How long you been singin’ that little ditty?”

“I...I was singing?” He hadn’t known. 

“Wow. They really did a number on you, didn’t they?” she commented. “You know Clarence, it wouldn’t kill you to actually defend yourself.” 

She had her wet towel again, and carefully brushed it over his injuries. It was soothing, even where it couldn’t help much, it at least assuaged the fire and throbbing of the bruising.

“It could,” he replied. “They really might kill me if I fight back.”

She laughed. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“What?”

“About what you are.”

“I’m a monster,” he retorted, feeling a bit put off and even annoyed by her tone, her half smile that _screamed_ ‘I know something you don’t but you’ll never make me tell.’ She seemed to be the type of person that liked to see people suffer. Or beg. “I am an uncategorized monster, and that is all.”

“Yeah, okay _Angel,_ ” she snorted. “You’re a monster, and I’m the queen of bloody England.” She said these last two words in a rather terrible British accent, and Angel actually shot a glare her direction. He didn’t want to piss her off, because...she was helping him. And she seemed a bit...prickly, but he didn’t really mind that. Still, something about her rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t like secrets.

“Why are you here?”

“I told you,” she replied. “We need you. You can be useful. You have...you are the only one around that can defeat her.”

“Who is this… _her?_ and why are you so determined I can beat her? I really can’t, Meg, I’m sorry, but you’re wrong.”

“You can,” she said. “And you are. You’re the only one around.”

“Only what?”

“It’s--” she broke off, panicked then, in a rush of black smoke, vanished.

She was no sooner gone than a flash of light filled the cage. Angel didn’t shut his eyes. He could see perfectly fine through the light, though he immediately wished he couldn’t.

It was Lilith. It didn’t look anything like the woman he’d grown up fearing, but it was definitely her. He knew it deep in the marrow of his bones. Her face...it was distorted, monstrous. 

Her skin was peeling, barely even skin, just pustules and boils, and what wasn’t...simply looked burned. He thought he could see straight through to the muscles. Yellow and black pus seemed to ooze from the tortured skin, and the stench that rose from the wounds was almost enough to make him gag. 

Her eyes were a liquid white, though still managed to seem...full of hate.

Her teeth were sharp, almost fanged, and her nose...well, it simply wasn’t. He could see the muscle there, but there was no cartilage. One of her cheeks was so sunken in, it looked like there was a hole here too. The skin on her neck and arms was scaled, her nails yellow and clawed. She was seething. 

Angel could feel it, and he felt ill, looking at her. 

The light was probably only there for perhaps two or three seconds, but it was enough, and it was horrible even just for that short time. It faded, and Lilith was as she had ever been, though her eyes...they remained that horrible, dead white, and her face was still twisted in hatred and fury.

“You thought I wouldn’t be watching?” she hissed. “That I wasn’t keeping a fucking _close_ watch on you?”

“You’re a monster?” he managed, feeling rather faint. Her hand closed around his throat. 

“Oh, Angel. I am the _first_.”

“What have you you done?” he asked, almost too confused to be terrified. “Why would you do...this to your...to other monsters?”

“I am nothing like you,” she said, sneering, fingers tightening around his throat. “You and your kind are weak, pathetic creatures. I am something like this world has never seen.”

 

“Why?” he asked again. He gagged then, as her nails dug in deeper to the flesh on his neck. 

Was this...was Lilith the ‘she’ Meg had spoken of? If so...there was no way he could win. Not in a fight against her. He couldn’t even get out of this hold she had on him. Meg was wrong. 

“Because your kind, and monster-kind, deserve to be punished. Because my...subjects need to get our own back. Vampires? Werewolves? Windegos and Rugarus? Useless. Stealing all those delicious human souls for themselves. Turning them into freaks. No. Best to keep them well out of the way. And you fluffy righteous assholes are just as bad.” 

She moved her other hand down now, brushing against his chest. “It would be easy to kill you right now, angel,” she purred into his ear. “You think because we didn’t manage it before, we can’t? I can tear out your heart right now, and your last sight will be me, eating it as it beats.”

“You know what? I don’t think that’s actually possible,” came a voice from behind her. “What do you think sis? Would the heart still be beating if she tore it out?”

“I don’t think so,” said a second voice. Lilith was already turning, her hold on Angel loosening. Angel stared. Two people, a man and woman, stood outside the cage. Both had rather sharp looking blades in their hands, and both looked rather the worse for wear. They looked like fighters. Bruised, tired, but with a fire in their eyes. They looked absolutely murderous.

“How nice to see you Gabriel,” said Lilith. “I think I owe you for killing my lovely Eve. Maybe I’ll kill your brother.” She shook Angel by the neck. “It will be easy.”

“Get off him Lilith,” said the man, hand tightening around his blade. Angel felt like he must be about to pass out. These newcomers...the air around their backs was oddly thick and pulsing. It almost looked like...like wings. But he had to be imagining that. It didn’t make sense...but the thick air around the man’s shoulders seemed to bend suddenly, and then he was in the cage, sword swinging. It sliced through the air where Lilith had been just milliseconds previously. She didn’t reappear.

The brown-haired man...Gabriel? Lilith had called him Gabriel, didn’t seem too bothered by that. “Hiya Castiel,” he said, smiling a little. Angel swallowed, a memory threatening to resurface. 

“What...what are you?”

“Gabriel…” began the woman. Angel jumped. When had she gotten into the cage. “He’s not-”

“He is,” said the man. “Do you know us?” Angel paused, and slowly shook his head. 

A swish of red hair, laughing brown eyes….but memories were false and...and ephemeral and he couldn’t trust them.

“I’m your brother,” said the man. “I’m Gabriel. This is Anael. We call her Anna for short.”

“Can we do the catch up after we are out of here?” asked the woman, impatiently. Gabriel looked a bit chastised, but moments later, Castiel’s bonds were gone, and all three of them were outside the cage. He had felt it...the air twisting around them, he’d heard wings...and then they’d simply moved. He felt dizzy. 

“Castiel, we have to get somewhere safe,” said the woman, Anna. “Where have you been staying? Do you know where we can go?”

Castiel….that must be him...odd. He didn’t feel any particular attachment to the name. It didn’t seem like _his_ , not really. But it was better than no name at all. And it was better than Clarance, which is what Meg called him.

“Dean,” he found himself saying. “We have to find Dean Winchester.”

***********************************************************************************************************

Meg watched from her hiding place and scowled. “More angels,” she muttered.

“Come now, pet,” said her male companion. “Now we don’t have to worry about such a weak choice. Two angels, nearly at full power, one an archangel...we might just win. And not die.”

“Don’t call me pet,” she snapped. “I’m only working with you because you are marginally less likely to go nuts than Lilith, Crowley. And I still don’t think this won’t get us killed. You know angels. They’ll smite us on sight.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” he retorted. “They’ll need all the help they can get. Angels are logical. They’ll see that.” 

****************************************************

Sam had been locked into one of the smallish cellar rooms in Rufus’ safehouse. Jessica had taken one look at him and turned away, tears burning in her eyes. Sam had the grace to look contrite, but when he tried to touch her, she yanked away and fled to an upstairs bedroom. Rufus and Bobby almost didn’t want to let him inside at all, but Dean insisted it was alright. “We can explain,” he said. “Sort of. Just...things are really complicated. And also, I think there are demons chasing us.”

So they’d been ushered inside, wards were replaced, and Sam was taken meekly down to the basement and locked inside. Just until they could figure out what Ruby had done to him, they said. He understood, really. He didn’t know what her blood had done. 

Dean didn’t like it. But he sat grudgingly in the living room and told the others what had occurred with the Alistair and Ruby.   
“I dunno what it is, but they shriveled up and…” he shivered. “Anyway. Here’s the knife. It’s got all sorts of sigils on it. I dunno what it…” he licked his lips. “I know Angel added a few.”

“Angel?” asked Jess. Dean winced slightly.

“Angel’s their monster friend,” replied Bobby. “Winged fella. He seemed...alright.”

“Well, he knows sigils that knock a demon dead,” said Dean. “From what I’d read, it seemed like demons don’t...they don’t die easy. But...Bobby. Azazel, the one we didn’t...he got away but….he said he killed mom.” He shuddered, feeling his throat constrict. “He said he killed her,” he repeated, quietly. 

Bobby felt a little out of place. He had no idea what to say to Dean now. “Well. He’s injured yeah? And you’ve seen him. So. We can summon him, or look for him...we ain’t runnin’ blind anymore kid. That’s gotta be a plus.”

Dean nodded. “I think...we should maybe tell dad? About the company shit and...and Azazel. He should...know.” 

“Alright, kiddo,” replied Bobby quietly. “We’ll tell him. See if we can’t get that son of a bitch to come home and be a dad to you.”

Dean clenched his teeth, but said nothing. He might have come up with something to say, but there was a knock on the door that distracted him. Rufus cocked his gun and looked out the peephole.

“You said your monster friend had wings?”

“Yeah.”

“He have other friends?”

“What? No! I mean… I don’t...why?” Dean was standing now, coming towards the door. Rufus opened it, but kept the gun pressed against the door, just in case. He’d fire it through the wood if he had to.

The short, brunette man grinned when he saw Dean. “Heya!” he said. “You must be Dean. Care to let us in?”

“Why?” asked Dean, though his eyes were drawn to Angel. The winged man looked exhausted and just...beaten raw. 

“Cause our brother here needs to lay down. And we have some planning to do.”

“Bro-” Dean was cut off by the other man pushing into the room, followed by the red-haired woman, the two of them supporting Angel. They laid him down on the sofa, with Rufus looking half-murderous and half-furious that they would touch his sofa. Or come in without telling him.

“I tell you,” said the stranger, “even if I wasn’t searchin’ for you already, this house lit up like a damn _beacon_. Impressive warding, by the way,” he added. “Real good stuff.”

“Okay, fucking _stop,_ ” demanded Dean, crouching next to Angel, who was looking slightly dazed and not really paying much attention to the calamity around him. “Just...stop and tell us the truth. Who the hell are you? And what are you to Angel?”

“Angel?” The woman looked confused, but the man was rather delighted. 

“You do realize that isn’t a name so much as species designation, right?” he asked. 

Dean was thrown. “What?”

“His name. It isn’t Angel. I mean...he is an angel, but it isn’t his name.”

“Mary...called me--” began the winged man, tiredly.

“Don’t care. She was human,” said the other man. “And you had wings and were cute, so yeah, if you didn’t have a name that’s what she’d call you. Why didn’t you tell her your real name though?” he asked.

“I don’t...don’t have one.” He closed his eyes.

“Hey,” said the woman. “None of that now. Gabriel…”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “One minute.” The two of them put a hand each on Angel, and a soft glowing light seemed to pulse from each palm. Angel was surrounded in the light, and all the humans had to close their eyes...but when they could see again, the winged-man looked perfectly healed. “My name is Gabriel,” said the stranger. “This is Anael. Or Anna. We’re angels. This here,” he slapped Angel on the shoulder, “Is Castiel. He’s our brother.” 

Dean was stunned for a moment, then abruptly, furious.

“Your brother? Your _brother?_ Do you even know what those bastards did to him? You fucking left him to….to _that_ What the hell is wrong with you?”

Gabriel to his credit, did look abashed. “We...we didn’t know,” he said, at last. “We didn’t know where he was or...or what had happened. We...we three were fighting really. In a war beyond this realm. Lilith...she wanted to put a cramp in our style. Our side’s style. So she did a little experiment. She created this...spell, essentially, that would bind the mother of monsters...Eve, she was called, to her. And then she had Eve do her dirty work. The spell Lilith did required only blood magic, but Eve’s spells required more.

“So anyway. Three of us were chosen. Myself, because I’m an archangel, Anael, because she was the leader of one of the most important garrisons in the Host, and Castiel, I assume because he was...fairly ordinary. No offense,” he added, at Angel’s--Castiel’s downcast look and Dean’s furious one. “Or maybe there was another reason, I don’t know. Anyway. An archangel, a cherubim, and a seraph,” he gestured to each. “That’s who was chosen. And she ripped us apart.” He swallowed, shuddering. “She changed us, our bodies. We were thrust into the forms of human children, no memories of our past, no powers. We were given to human parents. Anna and I had some age to us already, but Castiel here was little more than an infant. I suppose she was attempting to keep us at relatively proportional ages. So I was somewhere close to five, Anna around three, and Castiel almost one. For a few years it was okay. Anna and I learned to control our wings after a few years. 

But then our human father died, and our mother remarried. Anna and I could hide or use our wings whenever we wanted, but Cassie here was too little. His wings would burst in and out of sight at random, and one day, they didn’t go away. Our step-father didn’t like that much. 

All of this,” he added, “we learned much later, you understand. At the time, all we knew was that our father was dead, and that Cassie’s wings were fun to play with because he wasn’t good at getting them away from us yet. But our step-father didn’t like the wings. He didn’t realize that we all had them. And he heard about the Company. I found the paperwork. Sixteen thousand dollars, he got, for selling Cassie.”

Jessica spoke up. Dean startled, he hadn’t even seen her come back into the room. “If Lilith is actually the one who made you...human, and she’s the one running the Company, why did she pay for him? Couldn’t she just have...found you all?”

It was Anna who answered. “Well. Eve...wasn’t a fan of being bound. And Lilith hadn’t phrased things right in giving her orders that first time. So...Eve changed us. But as a small rebellion, she didn’t tell Lilith where she put us, or what we looked like. She hid us, from any sort of scrying spell Lilith might use. It’s why Lilith didn’t use her for anything again for so long. And our step-father, like Gabe said, didn’t know that we were the same as Castiel. So he sold her one child with wings, and when she came to our house...because she did,” Anna shivered, remembering that day, “she didn’t sense anything different about us, and left.”

“I don’t remember any of that,” said Castiel, frowning. “I don’t remember having a life at all, before the Company.”

“Well. They might have done something to you, to make you forget,” said Anna, kindly. “But that’s alright now. We’re here, and we can help.”

“How is it you remember?” asked Rufus suspiciously. “How do you two remember this shit? You said you didn’t remember anything.”

“It was an accident,” admitted Gabriel. “It started with dreams. We just...we had them And then we talked about it and realized we had the same dreams. And then we started asking questions and digging deeper, and learning about the Company that had taken our brother. We learned what our father had done to him, we learned about all sorts of supernatural creatures. And then...Anna got hypnotized. She remembered everything, and so I did the same. Hypnotized by some psychic...she was excellent by the way...anyhoo. We remembered. And when we remembered what we were, it wasn’t hard to get our powers back.”

“Eve couldn’t destroy it--our grace,” said Anna. “So she had to hide it instead, but once we remembered, we could find it. Once we did that, we started trying to find where Lilith might have put Castiel. We looked at Company sites all over, but we finally found the right one. I talked to this security guard, and got the information, and then we ...created a bit of a localized earthquake during his exercise session thing.”

“Why didn’t you come for me then?” asked Castiel, sounding a bit lost. “It was...so hard. Trying to figure out...everything.”

“I wanted to,” said Anna. “But...Gabe said that you weren’t ready to listen to us. And also, we had a few more things to do before _we_ would be ready to talk to you.”

“And I was right,” said Gabriel. “Look, you’d just gotten out of there, would you really believe two strangers that told you that you were an angel, not a monster? And we couldn’t prove what _you_ were, only what we were. We had to get some things.”

“Like what?” asked Dean, a bit roughly. He was still feeling a bit stunned. His friend, his winged friend Angel was actually called Castiel (he had a real _name_ and he was an angel. A real holier- than- thou, let- me -smite -a -town -angel. Jesus.

“Like this,” said Anna, pulling out a small vial on a chain from under her shirt. It was just a small tube, glass, and full of a pulsing, shifting, blue light. “It’s your grace,” she said, to Castiel. “You take it, and you’ll have your power and your memory back” .

He seemed to ponder this. “Do I...I’d like to think...would I have to leave here?” he asked. 

His siblings glanced at each other. “Well. There is a war on,” said Anna, after a moment. “And I know you don’t know us now, but you and I worked closely together before.”

“Aww. How sweet,” came a voice from the doorway. 

Castiel blinked. It was Meg, looking rather pleased with herself. “The wardings are top notch by the way, but I do recommend hiding them a bit better. They are easy to bypass.”

“Demon,” scowled Anna, her sword slipping into her hand.

“Whoa,” said the other woman, putting her hands up. “Easy there, angel cakes. I’m on your side.”

“You are a demon,” retorted Anna. “You are all alike.”

“Well that’s a bit harsh,” came a slightly more cultured tone. Gabriel turned to face this newcomer, a smug looking man, though really, Dean saw no reason for him...it? to be smug. “I like to think I’m a cut above the wench, after all.”

“Fuck you,” snapped the female demon. “Look. We got beef with the same demon you do, alright? Lilith is crazy and needs to be taken out.”

“And then what, set one of you up for position of ruler of hell?”

“The devil you know,” grinned the man. “And anyway, we’ve been trying to help out your little brother there. Castiel, you said?”

“The girl...Meg...did help,” offered Castiel. “She could have gotten hurt, but she did try to help me.” 

“See?” said Meg, her face splitting into a smile. “I’m the paragon of virtue.”

Anna scoffed. “You are a twisted abomination.”

“That’s hurtful,” sniffed Meg. “I only want to help.”

Gabriel was inspecting the two of them carefully. “We got some...interesting characters here, actually. Crossroads king, yeah? And you’re...I know you.”

“Azazel’s my dad,” she said. “I started out nephilim.” That wouldn’t endear her to the angels, but she figured it was best to be honest. “When he Fell, I went to Hell to be with him. But he wasn’t any better than Lilith, in the end. So if she gets taken down, I’ll help end him myself.”

“I don’t think they are lying,” said Gabriel.

“Seriously? We’re gonna trust fucking demons?” demanded Dean. “What the hell is wrong with you? Angels? Really?”

“You ever heard the phrase the enemy of your enemy is your friend?” sneered Meg.

“I don’t want a friend like you,” he snapped. “Your dad killed my mom.”

“Then I’ll be generous,” she said. “You can kill him.”

“So,” began Bobby. “We’ve got two...and a half angels, two demons and….what, five humans? Tryin’ta take down the queen bitch of hell?”

“Sounds accurate,” agreed Rufus. “If we let Sam out.”

“Great,” said Bobby, dryly. “What could possibly go wrong?”

“Bad question,” said Gabriel cheerfully. “Don’t you watch TV?” 

Castiel wrapped his arms around his middle, face drawn, not paying much attention. He stared rather blankly into space. Dean settled himself next to his friend.

“You alright?” he asked, softly.

“Well. I just found out that not only do I have a species, but a family that _sold_ me. I’ve also been told that I have to fight in some...battle against the woman that--” he swallowed. “So. No. I am not okay.”

Dean ran his tongue over his teeth, placed his hand on Castiel’s knee. “Well. You have a name now,” he said. “And yeah, your family is a bunch of d-bags, but you are an actual angel. That’s gotta count for something.” Castiel met Dean’s eye. “Come on Castiel,” said Dean softly. “Lets get you something to wear, yeah?” He nodded, and allowed Dean to pull him to his feet and lead him up the stairs. “Rufus, I’ll be stealing a pair of jeans,” called Dean from halfway up the stairs. 

The older man snorted, and yelled back, “you better be wearin’ underwear boy!”

Bobby just watched the two of them with narrowed eyes. He worried, a bit, how close Dean seemed to be to this….angel creature.

“How can we trust any of you?” that was Rufus, pulling them back to the situation at hand. “None of you are human. So why should you have our best interests at heart?”

Gabriel put on an offended look. “Anna and I are angels. And...hello? Archangel here?”

“So you say,” muttered Rufus. “I haven’t seen anything to prove you’re angels. Or that angels are a thing. “ 

“I’m hurt. Really,” said Gabriel. “And _they_ say that we are what we say,” he added, pointing to Meg and Crowley.

“So you want us to take the word of self-professed demons now?” asked Bobby, incredulous. 

Gabriel seemed to ponder that for a moment, then shrugged. “Eh. Anyway. We are angels, whether or not you believe us.”

“And Clarence vouched for us,” pointed out Meg. “Demon or not.”

“Yeah, after knowing you for two days,” retorted Bobby. “Who’s to say it isn’t a ploy? Stockholm Syndrome or whatever? You pretend to be sweet and nice but really, you’re just tricking him.”

“I am not on fucking _Lilith’s_ side. That bitch ruined _everything_. It’d be hard to ruin hell, but she managed it,” snapped Meg.

“What about Sam?” All eyes turned to Jess. Most of them hadn’t even remembered that she was even there, but she was, arms crossed, eyes still a little red. 

“What?” Meg was blinking at the other girl.

“What the _hell_ was Ruby doing to him? Why did he…” she shuddered. “Why did he drink her blood?” she asked.

Crowley’s eyes almost bugged out. “That’s the plan? Interesting.”

“Speak demon,” said Anna, her voice ringing out. Even the humans could feel the unspoken power just under the surface.

“No need to get fancy,” muttered Crowley. “I’m not impressed by lightshows wings.” He made a show of readying himself to explain. He hurried it along when Anna touched the hilt of her blade. 

“Anyway. There’s a whole thing. Feed a kid some demon blood and they grow up weird. Azazel started it, but it works with any demon, to some extent. Especially one like Ruby, who’s also a witch. The demon blood mixes with the regular blood, starts replicating...soon the kid’s got some pretty powerful juice. Blood like that can be used in all sorts of rituals. Mind control, summonings, strengthening spells. All sorts of things really. It’s rather ingenious.”

“I hope you mean disgusting,” said Anna, looking a bit disturbed. “You do this to children?”

“Well, Azazel favored the babies, you know? But other demons do it to random shmucks like Sam.”

Rufus rubbed his temples slightly. “I’ve known Ruby since she was no higher than my knee,” he said. “Now you are saying she’s a demon witch?”

“Sorry?” offered Gabriel. “She’s probably been in place for her whole life. Her mission would have been to seduce Sam.”

Jessica let out a choked sob, shoved her knuckle into her mouth to try to keep herself quiet. Still, she reasoned. At least Sam hadn’t….it sounded like she’d been bewitching him or….or something. She hoped, anyway.

“ _Anyway_ ” said Crowley, looking quite put out for someone that originally had tried to seem like he didn’t want to say anything, “Ruby is dead now. Your boy killed her. Any spells she had going won’t be as potent, and some won’t work at all. The blood is still there though, and it can still be used as a power source.” 

“A power source for what?” asked Jess, sounding a little thin. Bobby was still impressed. This was so far from her world, and she was taking it...rather amazingly well. 

“Haven’t you been paying attention Barbie?” asked Crowley. “Lilith, obviously. Ruby was working for Lilith. Lilith wants to be the new devil. Take over hell. This is bad news for most of us, and there are quite a few that don’t like the idea. However. Demons are fickle things. They’ll go with whoever seems to be winning. I’ve got some good people in my pocket, but if Lilith gets this power up then all my supporters will go to her and she’ll be the new Queen of Hell. Bad news bears for all involved, including humans, since she won’t be content to stop with Hell.” 

“The same thing we do every night Pinky, try to take over the world,” said a dry voice from the stairs. Dean was standing there, eyebrow raised. Most of the others in the room seemed a bit nonplussed. “Seriously guys? Pinky and the Brain? Dramatic and insane takeover plans? No one?”

“Well, we know who’s not the Brain,” said Meg dryly. “Hey-o Clarence. Pinky.” She smirked.

Castiel was standing just behind Dean. Dean had traded Castiel his own jeans, then taken a pair of Rufus’ for his own. Dean had also buttoned up his flannel over shirt, and Castiel wore the black t-shirt. Two slits were cut up the back of it and held together around his wings with safety pins. He seemed to be trying to hold his wings as still as possible.

“Hey! I’m not Pinky! I’m not trying to take over anything,” protested Dean. “You’re Pinky.”

“My name is not actually Clarence,” announced Castiel, somewhat inconsequentially. No one really paid attention to him, except Meg who winked. 

“No one in this room is….god damn it,” muttered Bobby. “Tryin’ to save the world with a bunch of idjits. I think I need a drink.” 

“Sorry Bobby,” said Rufus cheerfully. “My drinks for me only.”

“You’re a miserable old cuss,” said Bobby shortly.

“And you’re a pissant jackass,” replied Rufus, a little more flippantly. “Your point? Let’s get back to the actual issue at hand please.”

“Can...Can we let Sam out of the cellar?” asked Jess. Her eyes flicked over to Castiel briefly, then searched the room at large. “I just...if he was bewitched, maybe we shouldn’t...maybe we can let him out?”

Dean looked hopefully at Bobby and Rufus. “Yeah,” he said, eagerly. “Cas here can tell you, before the Ruby shit, he was actually awesome. She laid some mojo on him or something and he got all weird.”

“Cas?” asked Castiel. 

Dean looked a little uncomfortable. “Yeah dude. It’s like...a nickname. I can...not.”

“I don’t mind.”

Bobby cleared his throat. “If either of you two boys wanna stop starin’ at each other for five seconds….”

“Yes,” said Castiel. “Sam was quite pleasant before Ruby. I imagine that is when he changed. I enjoyed talking to him about sigils and various types of monsters. If we are going to make a plan to defeat Lilith, I think that Sam will prove invaluable.”

Rufus didn’t look like he wanted to trust any of them, but the other humans in the room were keen to let Sam out, and the others were mostly interested in seeing this kid.

Crowley gave a low whistle when Dean led a very hangdog looking Sam out of the basement. “Well. Hello Moose,” he said. Dean rolled his eyes, and Sam grimaced.

It took nearly half an hour to catch him up to speed, but though he was still horrified about what he’d done, and he tried half a dozen times to apologize to Jess, who wouldn’t look at him, and he almost was sick when they told him what Lilith might be planning to do with his blood; he was still keen to help with the planning process. 

One thing that was decided early on was that Sam shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near Lilith, ever. She’d be on the lookout for Castiel, so it made sense that both he and Sam stayed hidden. Castiel didn’t want to fight anyway, he didn’t trust his body would remember how, and he’d never fought anyone before that he could recall, even if Gabriel and Anna said that he’d been a soldier.

They drank a lot of coffee, and ate most of Rufus’ leftovers, but as dawn crept over the buildings, they had a plan that, if it didn’t get all of them killed, might, in Bobby’s estimation, have the slimmest possibility of working.


	12. The Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle
> 
> Things get crazy here. And the chapter itself is fairly long....uh....though I don't have a beta or anything, so hopefully things make sense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this up.   
> Granted, I don't think anyone is reading this anymore. Or waiting.  
> Which is fine. I mostly write just for myself anyway, and this is definitely the most insane project I've ever done on my own.  
> I am never writing a story where so many people have to do shit ever again.  
> Anyway, three chapters going up tonight.   
> All done.

The Battle

Castiel (and how strange it was, to have a name. It still didn’t quite feel as if it fit him no matter what Gabriel and Anna said), crept toward the woods. It was surprisingly easy to stay out of sight. Company people looked for him, but they were expecting someone flying, or bare-chested and wild, not a skulking young man in jeans and a t-shirt, a sweatshirt huge and dark pulled over the wings, which were as tightly folded as he could get them. In all, it wasn’t comfortable. But at least it was, more or less, inconspicuous. 

His part in this...mission...was simple. Go to the woods, to that cabin, to see if there was anything left, or if the Company had taken his things. He had a few weapons there that the others had thought would be useful. He also intended to find Mareka, the bear that had taught him the things she might have taught a cub in that few months after he’d escaped, to find the wolves that had taught him how to hunt...and warn them to stay well away from what would likely turn into a battleground. There was no sense them getting hurt, and he knew that the would come to his aid, if he commanded them to do it. If they were not around...there would be no reason to tell them to leave, but if he did find them, or traces of them, around the cabin when he searched it for anything useful, then...well. Then he’d make sure they, at least, would be safe.

Jess, Rufus, and Bobby had the unenviable task of going door to door, telling people that, actually, the monster that had been in the cage was not actually a monster, that Lilith was the real monster. Gabriel had provided documents that proved he’d been experimented on and tortured...and one added document showing that the wings had been implanted by the Company themselves. People would either believe them or not, but in any case, the goal was to understand what the Company was, and explain that it was dangerous, and that something worse was coming. They were trying to get people to leave the town, as quickly and quietly as possible. 

They tried explaining what Lilith was, that she’d be attempting a ritual of sorts to make herself unstoppable, that she’d turn and destroy the town with pleasure.

Most of the civilians were proving resistant to the idea. “Just because some fool up at that place thinks necromancy or whatever it is you’re honkin’ about is a thing, doesn’t mean I do. I’m not pickin’ up an’ leavin’ ‘cause some bleeding heart and a drunk tell me to,’ was a rather common response. 

Some believed them though, and when Missouri Moseley, who was known for her level head as well as her accurate psychic readings and who had, it was said, exorcised more than her share of ghosts, packed up and left immediately, others followed. More stayed than they’d hoped, but...some of them had at least promised to stay indoors. Fewer allowed Bobby or Rufus to add any sort of protection to their houses. 

Jess felt a bit miserable about it, but later, sitting next to Sam in Rufus’ townhouse, was slightly buoyed by the idea that they’d helped a little bit, at least. Sam wasn’t allowed to go out at all. He wasn’t allowed to help, beyond the initial planning. They didn’t know what the demon might want him for, but they knew it wouldn’t be good, and there was no sense in letting her minions get ahold of him. Jess, after that disappointing canvassing, was relieved that he’d be staying behind with her. Castiel too, had been relegated to the sidelines after collected what he could from the cabin. He was there to both protect him, and also to keep a last line of defense, just in case someone managed to break through their (much stronger) warding.

Dean, the angels, and the demons, had the hardest job. They were spreading out throughout the town, quietly whispering the incantation and dropping the proper rosary beads into the wells that would make most of the average garden hoses just as good as a rock salt gun against a demon. The holy water that spread through the town water lines (thanks to Gabriel) would help if the rock salt and knives and swords didn’t work. 

They were the first line of defense. 

Pretty much everyone was united on the front that Dean should not be part of this group, but he was nothing if not stubborn. He had hunted monsters before, he was good with guns and knives, and Lilith had hurt his _family_. 

“And Castiel,” Gabriel had added. Dean had stopped short, because….well, he’d been counting Castiel.

“Yeah,” was all he’d said, before starting his argument again than the only way they were going to get him to not fight Lilith was to lock him in the panic room, and as he had not drank any demon blood, and he’d already killed one demon and thus was more experienced in that field than either Bobby or Rufus or Castiel (to the latter’s memory anyway), then it only made sense that he go. 

“Besides. We need a human out there,” he said. “You want to trust everyone’s lives to angels and demons? We need representation too.” 

Sam had piped in that it was a good argument, which everyone ignored, but Dean was still successful in his desire to go out and fight. 

***********************

 

The trip to the woods had ended easily enough, and Castiel slipped back inside the house, and passed out the few weapons he’d managed to collect. The claw brass knuckles that he’d etched sigils into one day, a few stone knives with similar sigils. Dean and Sam had given him a few things as well, and he brought the knives. 

They were not consecrated, as the knife he’d taken from Sam so long ago had been, and they weren’t dual bladed, iron and silver like a few of the other knives he’d seen the Winchester’s had, nor were they the shining, alien metal of the angel’s swords. But they would be passable, in a fight. They’d kill demons, in the way that ordinary knives would not. And Gabriel and Anna infused them all with a bit of their own grace as well, and blessed the weapons. Meg and Crowley got a few of the unconsecrated blades. The knives themselves wouldn’t do as much damage, but they wouldn’t hurt their bearers either. And, as demons, it was decided that the two of them could defend themselves well enough anyway.

 

Now, it was calm. Castiel was unnerved by how silent it was in the streets. Even the stubborn people who had refused to leave (which, really, was most of them) were staying inside, at least. A brisk wind tumbled leaves and empty plastic bags down the deserted streets. Castiel watched at the window, trying to see….anything at all, really. Dean, the angels, and the demons were all gone. Each demon was paired with an angel, and Bobby had, last minute, decided to go with Dean, to give him additional back up. 

Jessica sat with Sam on the couch, several inches away from him. She didn’t want to touch him, right now, still feeling vaguely horrified and hurt by what had happened, but she seemed to be working toward forgiveness. She didn’t move to sit in one of the empty chairs, at any rate. Rufus prowled about, checking the wards and his guns compulsively. 

Castiel didn’t move from his position by the window, except to pull his wings tight against his back, eyes straining to see in the fading light.

***************************

Lilith stood in her office, reaching for the silver goblet she kept on her desk. She touched a button on her desk, and a few moments later, an eager demon hurried into the room, grinning. “Yes, Ms Lilith?” he asked, practically salivating.

She smiled. “Rezek. Good. You want me to be Queen, don’t you?” she asked, simpering slightly. He nodded immediately. 

“More than anything, Ms...Your majesty.” He bowed theatrically. 

“Good.” she said touching one finger to his cheek. “That’s what I like to hear.” She kissed him on the mouth, then pulled back, and slashed her hand across his throat. He gagged and choked and gurgled for breath. She caught the blood in her chalice. “I have to make a call,” she whispered, dropping the body to the floor. The demon twitched, in it’s final death throes. She stepped away from him, skirting the still body of Azazel on the floor by the desk. 

She stirred her finger in the blood, swirling it about the cup. “Hello my lovelies,” she said. “It’s time.”

*************************

They got to work immediately. Their Queen called, and they obeyed. They’d been working toward this for years after all, and finally things were in place. The spell was years in the making, complicated and lengthy. Almost as many demons stood watch as conducted the spell itself. Finally, the body of a young girl was brought forward. Like many spells, this one called for virgin blood. To be in accordance with the spell, it really only had to be the blood of someone that had never been involved with magic, had never had their blood used in a spell before---literally, blood that was virgin from magic use. But...these were demons. They liked using the blood of a girl who had never had sex either. It amused them. They chanted the words, slowly drawing blood from the panicking girls arms, her legs and hands. Something rumbled and for a moment, they let her go, let her think that she was free. Then, one grabbed her by the hair, and dug the silver knife deep into her throat, and ripped. Her screams immediately turned to gurgles, and her blood ran over the stones and runes, dripping onto each talisman in turn. 

Nothing happened for a tense minute. Then, in the sky, a cold beam, like frozen lightning, split the air. It opened slowly, this portal. The eerie greenish hue lit up the entire town, bathing it in a sick light. The noise from beyond the crack in the sky was horrible. A cacophony of shrieks and curses, the clang of weapons. The demons laughed and shouted, celebrating. There was a deep rumbling in the earth. The celebrations were cut short by a huge trench shuddering open under their feet. The portal continued to open, and as it did, the hole in the earth grew larger. The unlucky demons that had been right next to the portal, were screaming and plummeting into the huge pit. The scent of sulfur emanated from the hole. 

Demons started pouring from the portal, Most fell immediately into the trench. It didn’t take long though, for a blackened, twisted hand to slap down on the edge of the pit. The creature that pulled itself out, though it had looked human when it had fallen in, had only vague vestiges of humanity left. It stood on two feet, and it’s bone structure was hominid, but there the similarities ended. It was black, utterly, charcoal black, with burned flecks of flesh peeling off. It had claws on it’s fingers and toes, a deep onyx in color. It’s eyes looked like they were burning. Smoke peeled off its back in waves, though it almost looked liked wings. It’s ribs were visible, almost to the bone, and a cherry red seemed to pulse in its core. It’s face was all harsh planes and angles, sharp teeth and reptilian shaped brow. It tilted it’s head back and gave a piercing shriek. 

More were climbing out of the pit now. They were all different, horrible, almost zombie like skeletons, held together by fire and bone, occasionally, by bits of flesh. There were creature that looked like they’d never been human at all, monstrous forms that stalked forward on four or six, or eight feet, scuttling around, hissing and shrieking like scorpions or spiders. Some were huge, some held weapons, and some _were_ the weapon. As their numbers grew, they started chanted. The words were harsh, difficult to make out as they filtered throughout the town. Eventually though, with repetition, the words made themselves clear.

We are Reborn. We are Reforged. We are Death.

*******************************  
The noise drew the band of hunters, though they tried to keep out of sight. Meg swore.   
“What?” hissed Dean. “What the fuck are those things?”  
“Those are demons,” she said, bitterly. “Demons as they haven’t been seen for centuries. Most of us look human, you know. But that….that is what we used to look like.”  
“Why don’t you?” he asked, suspiciously. “You don’t look like that under the girl, do you?”  
“No,” she snapped. “This is me. The old generations….they were made for fear and destruction. The more recent….we cause temptation. We don’t often go out on a rampage, you know. We tempt and manipulate, and win souls for our side.”  
“These demons lack all subtlety,” said Crowley, disapprovingly. “You humans do most of our work for us nowadays. All it takes is push in the right direction. These creatures will simply rip you apart.”  
Dean swallowed. This….was most definitely not good. “There’s so many.”  
“No shit, Sherlock,” snapped Meg. “I mean, really, well fucking observed.”

“This isn’t helping,” calm Anna’s calm voice. “Gabriel and I are used to fighting creatures like this. And we’ve fought more. Meg and Crowley do not have to worry about corruption of the soul, at least. They can fight these creatures and it will not matter if they are cut.”

“Thanks,” muttered Crowley. “Good to know we are appreciated.” 

Anna ignored him. “If a human is cut, or fatally injured, it gives the demons time to take his soul,” she said, blandly. “Do not allow that to happen. The goal is to close the portal. That should happen if we get rid of the source, or if we destroy the point of origin.”

“What’s the source?”

“The source of a portal of this magnitude….well, they’d have to be giving up a lot of power to keep it opening, much less make sure it doesn’t close again. They’d have to be close, and they’d have to have a constant source of power to tap into,” said Gabriel. “In all likelihood, they need blood. I dunno what sort of specifics, but the spells used to open the portal initially and then _keep_ it open are different. One would require a sacrifice. The other….like I said, requires a steady source.”

“We have to get closer to find it though. And that means fighting.” More creatures still poured out of the mouth of the pit. 

“Well,” said Anna grimly. “We may as well get started.” 

And then she and Gabriel were gone, leaving the rest of them a bit startled, until they burst forward as a group, running toward the horde of demons. 

Gabriel and Anna were already right in the middle, well oiled machines, stabbing, slicing, twisting. 

Dean was impressed, but then he was fighting for his own life. A demon centipede thing came at him, tail like a scorpion’s. It slammed the poisonous appendage toward him again and again. He ducked he rolled. He killed two demons that tried to get him while he evaded the centi-scorpion--one with a sword--he had just jumped back from the tail, only to see the sword coming at him from the corner of his eye, and darted forward, closer to the demon, out of range of the arc of the sword, knife slamming into the creature’s throat. He twisted away, letting the thing fall to the ground, blood spraying onto him. He evaded a second sword wielding demon by rolling under the swinging tail again, and letting the centi-scorpion impale the demon. One came at him from the back, pincers clacking (the only reason he knew it was coming was that he heard it). He lurched to the left, bringing his blessed machete down onto the demons head. It didn’t sever it, but it wounded the creature mortally. It was enough to go on. Dean rolled under the centi-scorpion thing, making sure it knew exactly where he was going. Once on the other side, he leapt to it’s back, causing it to scream in anger. He’d already tried hacking the thing himself, but it’s skin was too tough for his blade, and when he could make an impression, it didn’t seem to hurt the thing. Still, he drove his smaller knife into the slightly weaker space between head and neck. It only angered the thing, which was what Dean had been hoping for. It’s battle fever made it stupid, and the huge tail sliced toward him, but Dean jumped off, leaving the little knife where it had been. The creature impaled itself neatly through the neck. Dean would probably laugh about that later. For now, he barely watched the creature spark and die, before turning to the next victim.  
*************************************************

_It’s time_

The words echoed in his skull. Sam shook his head. “You alright?” asked Jessica, concerned. 

“Yeah, just...got a chill.” He swallowed. “Look. Can we...can we go to the panic room?” he asked her. “I don’t….It feels….” he shivered, and Jessica looked a bit taken aback.

“I thought you didn’t want to be down there,” she said. 

“I think I’d feel safer,” whispered Sam. Jessica nodded.

“Castiel?” she asked. “Are you coming?”

“No,” came the soft reply, wings wrapping more tightly around him. He could feel it in the air...something was coming, something bad. “I will keep watch.”

She nodded, and led Sam down the stairs.

She opened the door to the panic room, and he shoved suddenly, slamming the door, locking it, with her inside. “Hey!” she yelled, banging on the door. The sound was muffled. “Let me out! What the hell? Sam!” 

He was already making his way up the stairs. He met Rufus first. A quick shove, a fast punch, and the older man was out for the count. He picked up the shotgun Rufus had been holding. Castiel had heard Rufus fall and turned to investigate. He walked into the other room, and saw Rufus’ body. Then, there was a sharp crack to the bridge of his nose, and then, blackness.

 

It didn’t take him all that long to wake up, not in the scheme of things. He heard the chanting, heard the words and knew, without knowing how, their meaning. His head hurt. He checked to see if Rufus was still alive. He was. 

“Sam,” he whispered. This was what they’d been afraid of, he thought. Ruby’s blood, the magic….whatever had happened, Sam was still ensnared. Castiel really hadn’t wanted this...but he forced himself to slip out of the house. He didn't have much by way of weapons. He wasn't comfortable with the guns that had been left behind so they could defend themselves if they needed to, but he grabbed one anyway. Any weapon was better than none.

Castiel moved quietly. He knew where the fighting was, he could hear it. But the idea was to find Sam, to get him free, not to get caught in the fighting. He climbed to a roof top, and from there, sped his way toward the battle. The portal was not widening any longer, but it was open. Sam had to be close, thought Castiel, straining his eyes to see more clearly. He saw Gabriel and Anna, fighting in two different circles, each of them fighting multiple demons at once, blades flashing. They were letting the demon bodies pile around them, a blockade of sorts. He found Meg and Crowley, each bloodied and armed to the teeth. He saw Crowley reach out, and then, he saw a huge dog lunge at the demon Crowley was fighting, ripping it’s throat out. The dogs were a good investment, it seemed. Finally, his gaze found what it was looking for. Dean.

The human was doing an admirable job keeping up….but he was clearly tiring. He fought back to back with Bobby, but there was only so much they could do. Castiel fired three shots in quick succession, his aim perfect, picking off a demon Dean couldn’t have seen, and two that either he or Bobby probably had seen, but couldn’t get to at the moment, busy as they were with other enemies. 

He saw Dean look around, and he spread his wings, fired another shot. He knew when Dean saw him, because the human waved. Then, he abruptly went back to his battle as if he hadn’t been interrupted. Castiel tossed the gun. It was out of useful bullets anyway. Nothing else marked with the runes or sigils that could kill or incapacitate a demon. When he got to Lilith or Sam, he'd have to figure something else out.

Castiel felt a bit reassured. But he wasn’t here to find Dean. He was here to look for Sam. So he launched himself from his rooftop vantage point and took to the sky.

********************************

The bullet had whizzed over Dean’s head and lodged itself into the eye of a demon that surely would have taken his head off. The next two slammed into the mouth and throat, respectively, of two other demons. These, Dean and Bobby had seen, but neither had had the time to get to killing them. Dean looked around wildly, trying to see who was shooting--no one else was meant to be out right? Another demon dropped, blood gushing from a new wound, and Dean saw him then, Castiel wings outstretched, gun in his hand. He looked magnificent like that. Dean raised his hand. He made a mental note to tell Cas how badass he’d looked just then, but he had to return his attention to fighting, no matter how much it seemed that time had slowed during that few seconds. He wasn’t tired anymore. He threw himself into his battle again, yelling encouragements to Bobby on occasion. When he looked back up, Cas was nowhere to be seen. 

The angels were fighting closer to the edge of the pit, killing demons as they emerged. It seemed easiest. Demons, unlike angels, couldn’t actually fly, which did give Gabriel and Anna a bit of an advantage. They couldn’t get too far into the pit though, or it singed their wings. It could kill them, really. The stench of sulfur and evil was strongest here, at the edge. 

There was a group of demons on the other side of the pit, behind the portal. These were human-looking, and they had guns at the ready. Suddenly, three of them fell, arrows in their throat. 

Castiel twisted away from the hail of bullets that was sent his way, but managed to kill two more of the demons in the process. 

Dean stumbled out of the fray, struggling for breath. He was bruised, a bit battered, cut, in a few places, but nothing felt like it was festering. Still he needed to find Gabriel, make sure that he wasn’t gonna go dark side. 

He saw her then, standing in a semi-circle of demons, several dead ones lying with arrows in them in various places. She was connected to a small IV, and, on the other end, looking eerily vacant, was Sam. 

He couldn’t breathe. Lilith’s source, the thing keeping the portal open, was his little brother.

******************************************

 

Castiel ignored the pain in his wing. He had to. The bullet had pierced him rather easily though, and that unnerved him greatly. But Sam was down there. And he had to get him out. He flew into the sun, hovering for a moment. 

A sword sailed toward him. He caught it automatically. Gabriel’s. His brother was still below on the battlefield, though now he was only using his hands, slamming his palms into demon after demon, ignoring their weapons. Bright light pulsed from his fingers and into the demon, which would shudder and spark, and collapse.   
Castiel readied the sword. Gabriel clearly intended for him to use it to kill Lilith, to break the connection and close the portal.

He closed his wings and, in a streamline, fell down towards earth, sword hand directly in front of him. They fired at him again, but they were blinded, their aim was off. Lilith screamed in rage and pain as he collided with her, the sword plunging into her stomach, their combined weight moving suddenly backwards tearing the IV free from her arm. 

Gabriel and Anna were there, Anna’s sword flashing, felling the demons that stood as guard. Castiel and Lilith rolled. He pulled the sword out of her stomach and pushed himself to his feet, gasping. He froze as she slowly stood, her wound gaping, her face flickering slightly with a sick white light. 

“I am so much more than demon now,” she hissed at him, her eyes almost reptilian. “I have been preparing for this my entire existence. You think your petty angel blade can stop me?” Castiel figured that if her head was off, it would at least slow her down. He swung, and she dodged, though the blade sliced her arm. She screamed in rage and launched herself at him. 

She’d miscalculated though, and her momentum carried them both over the edge of the Pit.

*************************************

Dean screamed when he saw Cas barreling out of the sky. It didn’t look like a controlled fall at all. But things started to happen far too quickly then. The line connecting Sam and Lilith was severed. Sam had fallen to the ground. Gabriel and Anna had disappeared from this side of the trench and reappeared on the other, slaughtering the last few demons there, before they could kill Sam or Cas.

Cas though… Dean screamed out his friend’s name again.

He flung himself to the edge of the Pit, trying desperately to see down. No more Demons were crawling out of it. But….there! Not too far down, a limp figure with smoking wings. Cas was climbing out!

Dean reached his hand down, and moments later, Cas had grabbed it, allowed himself to be pulled up. He dropped the sword on the ground next to him. Dean wrapped his arms around his friend’s trembling body. Dean backed the two of them away from the Pit, the sounds of fighting seeming to fade out of his hearing. 

Everything seemed to slow down. Gabriel and Anna dropped down next to them. Sam flopped like a ragdoll on the ground, and Gabriel immediately started tending to Cas, while Anna placed cool fingers on Dean’s face and arms. He hadn’t realized how hot and inflamed his injuries had been until she healed them. “You’ll be fine,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I’ve given you a bit of energy.” She handed him his knife again. “The connection was broken, the power to infect was not as great.” She glanced up. The demons were still there, though they’d paused in their attack briefly when they felt the connection break, when they saw their leader disappear into the pitl “We have much still to do.,” said the Angel quietly. “Some will flee, but most will fight. We must contain it.” 

 

Was that it then? Connection broken, Lilith dead? It seemed too easy. 

“Still,” he said, hoarsely. “It’s gotta close or something right? They can’t get through, so….it’s over, right?”

“She ain’t dead boy,” said Bobby, when he voiced this. “She fell into that demon pit. What was she but a demon? That thing don’t kill ‘em, you idjit. It changes em.” 

Dean fell silent. That…..that was true, he realized with a dawning horror. She’d come back and….who even knew, anymore? She was all juiced up from the spell still, he realized, and whatever else ran through her veins. The angel blades that worked on everything had only made her made. “You need to get Sam home,” hissed Dean to Castiel, helping him to his feet. “Alright? Get him home.”

“You come too,” insisted Castiel. “You and Bobby. This isn’t your fight. You shouldn’t have to fight her.” He was well aware that he was in no shape to fight. 

“Anna gave me some juice,” he grinned tiredly. “I’ll be fine. Get Sammy home, okay? Don’t let them kill him.” Castiel stared into Dean’s bright green eyes for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. Sam meant everything to Dean. Losing his little brother would kill him as surely as any demon blade. 

Castiel could, at the very least, give Dean his brother. “I won’t let anything happen to him,” he assured Dean, gravely, glancing to where Gabriel still held the younger Winchester. He was unconscious, grey faced. He’d lost a lot of blood.

There was an inhuman scream from behind them. Dean found himself frozen, but Castiel straightened suddenly, instinct that he didn’t know he had settling him into a fighting position. His heart rate was calm, his breathing normal. 

The hand that had slammed onto the ground outside of the Pit didn’t look much like it had ever been human. It was too big, for one thing. It was blackened, skin and scales flaking off. The skin was red and yellow--angry and infected, weeping blood and pus. The nails were long and jagged; nothing like the pristine manicure Lilith had favored. 

She was pulling herself up out of the Pit slowly, still screaming her fury. Dean remained paralyzed. What could they even do against her? The blades that had been used to kill the other demons had hurt her, it seemed, but hadn’t killed her. 

There was silence on the battlefield behind them. Or perhaps Castiel just wasn’t hearing them at the moment. Lilith was more than monster. She was barely even substance anymore, but what was there was foul. She was rotting in her very core, brown sludge dripping out of the gaping holes in her flesh, dark smoke making up huge portions of an ever shifting body. There were faces in the smoke, all of them with open mouths, distorted or sharpened teeth, dripping with blood and saliva. They had boils and burns and tumors growing all over them. Many were missing noses or lips, or skin entirely, showing only the muscles underneath. They appeared and disappeared quickly, forever being swallowed and shifted by the bulbous, black body of the Queen Demon. 

Her body was ever shifting in a dizzying whirl that made even the angels feel a bit nauseous, but her upper torso, shoulders arms, and head seemed more or less solid, even if they too were always moving, snake-like. 

Dean couldn’t make himself look at her face. It was the eyes. Something about the deep blackness of them made him feel like if he looked, he’d fall. There was nothing in those eyes. Just twin black holes, that seemed to suck the life and the light out of anything they looked at. Her face was rotting, corpselike. It was mottled green and black and purple and red--pus and rotten skin hanging off of her cheeks and lips. She had only a gaping hole for a nose, her mouth full of needle thin teeth, several rows worth. She screamed, and her mouth opened in four even flaps, showing even more rows of teeth, and what looked like additional mouths. 

“ _He’sssss Miiiiiiiine_ She hissed out, her voice wet and garbled. Her words were not in English. Castiel didn’t know what language they were in, but he knew without any doubt that she was talking about Sam. That she was going to kill him or change him. Either way, he couldn’t let it happen. 

Gabriel had set Sam down when the scream had first sounded, readying himself. He’d called his sword to him automatically. It had disappeared from the pit side and reappeared in his hand. He sank down into a half crouch. 

Castiel felt the world slow slightly. Dean was crouched by Sam, holding his brother close. If Lilith wanted Sam, she’d have to go through Dean. Castiel knew she would. Gabriel was injured, bleeding sluggishly from a few rather nasty looking wounds that would have to heal on their own. Castiel knew he was low on power. He’d used too much smiting the demons with only his hands, without the sword. Anna had turned to face the opposite direction. He thought he heard Crowley swear quietly.

Anna, Crowley, Meg, and Bobby were suddenly running. Castiel turned briefly. The demons were attacking again. Everything felt like he was watching it in slow motion. He saw Anna kill three demons one right after the other, dispatching of them with efficiency. Crowley felled one rather easily, but was cut by another almost immediately after. Meg, for a moment, seemed to be doing nearly as well as Anna had been, her knife darting in and out of Demon’s throats as she used her teleporting ability to stay one step out of reach. 

He glanced back toward Lilith who was making her way toward their group. Gabriel was crouched and ready to strike. But something….Castiel didn’t see what it was came sailing out of the throng behind them and slammed into Gabriel’s back. The archangel stumbled. Castiel half turned, saw Meg vanish, reappear, and stab the demon that had thrown his weapon at Gabriel, grin in triumph...and he saw the bone like blade slam through her back, out her stomach, slick and red. He saw the pain in her eyes, as blood dripped from her lips.

He saw Bobby thrown backwards, slamming against a nearby building, and not get up again. 

Gabriel was still getting up. It seemed like minutes had passed, but probably, it had been less that a second. Castiel wasn’t sure how he was seeing all of this, but at the moment, he wasn’t complaining. Gabriel was bleeding heavily. It looked like there was a knife of some sort in his back. 

Castiel moved then, two steps forward to grab Gabriel’s sword. The archangel stumbled again, but didn’t get up. Castiel thought he heard Dean’s voice behind him, but he ignored it. The sound of his feet, his breathing, his heart, filled his ears. He launched himself skyward, sword above his head. He screamed something, though he wasn’t sure what he said, and the sword blade was aflame, blue fire racing along it’s metal surface. He drove it deep into Lilith’s throat. She snapped her huge, multi-hinged mouth at him, tearing his wings and chest with her teeth. 

She was bleeding heavily from the neck, he could tell she wasn’t breathing. Dull orange and white light flickered all through her face. He twisted the blade as hard as he could, and she slapped him with one hand. He heard, rather than felt, something crack. 

He sailed through the air and slammed down onto the ground. He couldn’t breathe. Everything went dark.

*************************************

Everything was suddenly moving too quickly. The horror that was the demon Lilith was moving toward them. Anna, the demons on their side, and Bobby were moving away. Gabriel was ready to fight and Cas seemed….lost. Dean grabbed Sam, ready to defend his brother with everything he had, even if all he had was a dinky little knife that would have no effect on Lilith, if even the angel blade hadn’t. There was a sick thudding noise, and Gabriel jerked forward. Lilith was still stalking forward, screaming in that inhuman language. 

And then Castiel was moving, faster that Dean had even thought possible. He’d wrenched Gabriel’s sword out of his hand and took two steps before he was airborne. He shouted something. Dean vaguely recognized it as Enochian, based on the few words Cas had said before, the things he’d taught Dean. The sword lit on fire, and even Gabriel was gaping. “It’s only supposed to do that if I tell it to,” he murmured. And honestly, he’d only just remembered that. His and Anna’s memories, though returned….were still full of holes. They’d had human brains for too long, filling them up with all their angelic knowledge without accidentally damaging themselves was unlikely. So there were things that they hadn’t remembered yet. How to set the sword aflame (or even that it was one of the flaming swords at all) was one of them. 

But his little brother, not even an archangel, had done it. 

Dean watched in equal parts terror and awe. Cas was such a badass, he thought. “But it’s not gonna work,” he croaked out. “It didn’t before.”

He gaped as the demon bit down on Cas, as he screamed, but twisted the blade. Then his friend was sailing away, wings fluttering uselessly. He slammed down on the ground and skidded a few feet before laying utterly still. 

Lilith was stumbling around, clawing at her neck. The orange flickering was worse now, and almost none of the sickly white colored light was there at all. 

Gabriel pushed himself to his hands and knees, and gasped out two words that Dean didn’t quite hear, perhaps didn’t want to hear, and the sword twisted in Lilith’s throat of it’s own accord. She made a horrible choked noise, and then collapsed. The writhing mass of her body was utterly still, some of the faces visible and frozen in their pain and terror. 

For a moment, everything was silent. 

Then, an eerie groaning sound, starting almost inaudibly, then growing louder, began. The portal seemed to pulse, and then someone screamed. No….no, something. Dean felt the wind pick up, but...but no, it wasn’t wind. It sounded like it, but nothing was moving, no blade of grass, no leaf on a tree. At least, that’s what he thought, until the first demon swept by him. Another went by right after that, so close it almost clipped him on the head. He hunkered low to the ground, but soon, they were coming so fast and hard it was impossible to avoid being hit. 

Gabriel screamed as the knife that had been embedded in his back was yanked free, sailing into the closing portal with the demons that had exited from it. Nothing that hadn’t come from the portal or gone into the pit moved at all. Every demon that had jumped from one world to the other was yanked, screaming, back into hell. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, everything was silent. 

Dean finally glanced up, to look around. A few demons, still human looking, that hadn’t come from the portal or jumped into the pit, were scattered about, either looking terrified, dazed, or running away. 

Crowley stood, blood still dripping from his knife, over the crumpled body of Meg. He hadn’t really liked her. To be honest, he’d have preferred to kill her himself. Still, he couldn’t make himself be glad that she was dead. Her eyes were still open. He bent down and closed them. He glanced up and met Dean’s eyes. He scowled, then pocketed his own weapon, and then yanked Meg’s from her hands, and stalked away. Stupid sentiment. He forced himself to put thoughts of Meg away. He had a kingdom to rule, now that Lilith was dead. Thinking about a lieutenant that probably would have stabbed him in the back, missing her, wasn’t going to help anything.

Bobby stared, dazed at the lack of carnage. Even the corpses and weapons of the demonic intruders had been swept away. With the portal closed, only the stench of sulfur and death lingered, but remarkably few bodies. A few demons that hadn’t jumped into the pit--most of them had been on Crowley’s side, but that was it. He groaned. His back hurt, as did his head. He was too old to be tossed around like that. He could feel blood, trickling down his forehead. He closed his eyes again for a moment. He’d just...rest, for a moment. He could worry about what was going to come next…..later.

Anna walked back over to Gabriel, wincing in sympathy at the injury in his back. She laid her hands on it, but she knew it would do no good. Still, she managed to make the pain a bit more manageable. “Just rest,” she said quietly. “When you wake up, you’ll be strong enough to fight any infection on your own.” She glanced at Dean, who was staring at Castiel, who still hadn’t moved. “I’ll watch your brother,” she assured him. “Go look after mine.”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He carefully set Sam’s head down in the grass, and stumbled after Castiel. There was grass and dirt missing, from his skidding through it after Lilith had thrown him. He was bleeding from his wings, from his head, from his chest and arms. The shirt he’d been wearing was gone, cut to ribbons after being half burned away by the pit. They way he was lying looked….wrong. He looked a bit too twisted. Dean had to choke back a sob as he saw that one of Cas’ ribs was poking through the skin. 

His heart stopped as one of Castiel’s eyes fluttered open. “It’s….done?” He barely managed to whisper, his voice tiny, forcing each word out only after several failed attempts. 

“Don’t talk,” whispered Dean, kneeling next to him, touching the unruly dark hair gently. “Goddamn it Cas. What did you go and do that for?” 

Castiel’s arm twitched, but he couldn’t seem to move it. He couldn’t get his word out, but Dean could read the intended word on Cas’ lips as he gasped like a fish, trying to get it out. _You._

“Idiot,” he whispered. “I told you not to talk.” Castiel tried to smile, or possibly he was just grimacing. He coughed, wetly, and seemed to shake with the agony of it. His thin chest heaved. Dean tried not to watch that tiny bit of bone going up and down. 

“Dean,” Castiel finally managed to rasp out. And then, he was still. Utterly, completely still. 

“Anna!” Dean screamed, frantically placing his hand on Castiel’s neck, searching for a heartbeat. There was none. “Anna!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, that's the battle.  
> Hope it makes sense. I don't have a beta, and I didn't really edit it much myself. Because I am lazy. If people actually like this story, I'll go back and clean it up eventually. 
> 
> Also....bam bam BAAAAAM  
> People died. On account of....how fucking likely would it have been to keep everyone alive and happy?


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.  
> Very, very short.
> 
> Will be adding a second epilogue too. Which has some smut. This is a viable ending for the story though.

When he woke up, he wasn’t quite sure where he was. He was comfortable, which was odd. He was fairly sure he should be in a significant amount of pain. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t really remember _why_ he felt he should be in pain, but it still felt wrong that he wasn’t. 

He shifted slightly. Something else felt….different. What was it? His eyelids shuttered in an attempt to open them. There was a warm pressure on his hand. His fingers twitched against it.

“That’s right,” said a soft voice. “Come on Cas, you can do it. Wake up. You are so close.”

Cas….that’s right. Castiel, that was his name. Cas…. _Dean._ The name came to him suddenly. Dean called him Cas. 

He finally managed to open his eyes, and they met the relieved, exhausted green ones of the man that Castiel knew deep in his heart was Dean Winchester. Memories felt like they were falling into place, though there was a hazy grey around them. “Dean?” he croaked out.

The man smiled. “Don’t try and talk,” he said, holding out a few chips of ice, sliding them between Castiel’s lips. The phrase made Castiel frown. Why should those words bother him.

“What happened?” he managed. 

“I said not to talk,” reprimanded Dean, not unkindly. 

He helped Castiel to lean up, to drink from a glass of water he’d procured from...somewhere. When he laid him back on the pillows, he ran his fingers through Cas’ hair. “You scared me,” murmured Dean. “Don’t do that again, alright?” 

Castiel opened his mouth to ask what he’d done, but Dean cut him off. “You died, Cas,” he said, shakily. “You literally died.” Castiel’s brow furrowed. If he’d died, how was he here? “Do you remember?” Dean asked. “The whole thing with Lilith?”

That name….Castiel shivered, and the memories hit him like an avalanche. Apparently, he’d just needed to wake up a bit. The Company, Alistair and Azazel, the tests and experiments, Mary, escape, Dean….all those months where Dean and Sam came to visit, teaching him about the human world, the good things, showing him what a family was, like, eager to visit him and teach him, and learn from him. He remembered lazy days, swimming with Dean, watching thunderstorms grow and be born, climbing high into the trees to show Dean the rainbows. He remembered showing Dean the cave with the bioluminescent fish, finding beautiful rocks and shells, and smiling shyly when Dean said they were cool, because, though he hadn’t told Dean, he’d picked them up because they reminded him of his friend, and the fact that Dean liked them made him feel warm and happy.

He remembered Sam becoming distant, remembered being captured again, tortured in front of the humans in the town for being different, for his wings. He remembered the battle with Lilith. 

“How…” 

“I’m getting to it,” said Dean. “Crowley up and vanished. He must’ve snuck Meg’s body away, because it wasn’t there when we tried to find it. She was a demon, but she fought for us. We’d wanted to give her a respectful send off, you know?” Castiel was silent, but he listened carefully. “Sam and Bobby really needed the hospital. Bobby’s still there. There was some pretty extensive damage to his spine, but they think if he stays in the wheel chair for a few weeks, he should be fine with a brace soon, and then, if he’s careful, in a few months he’ll be totally back to normal.” Dean grinned. “Sammy was in the hospital for a few days. It...it was pretty bad,” Dean’s smile faltered. “He’d lost a lot of blood. And then, he went through withdrawals in the hospital. Like he was on drugs or something. Jess was a star though. She stayed with him the whole time. She’s totally forgiven him for locking her up and lying and shit. Well. She’ll probably give him shit for it for a long time, but Sam’s pretty much accepted that. He’s embarrassed and kinda….he feels real guilty. So...tell him you don’t blame him, alright? For getting you killed?”

“I don’t understand how I’m not dead,” said Castiel, voice still gravelly and hoarse, his throat sore.

“And Dean….Dean, where are my wings?”

Dean faltered again. “Okay. Well. You died. Right there in my arms. You were just...you died. Anna...Anna sort of put you in stasis, but it took Gabriel a few days to heal. The two of them put your grace back in you.” Castiel frowned. “I know you wanted to decide but…” Dean looked away. “You were dead.” He swallowed. “Anyway. Your wings aren’t gone but….but you can hide them away now, if you want.” Dean thought he’d rather miss them. “They’ll still work even if you keep them hidden, though you sort of need them out if you want to fly like you are used to. Um. It’s...it’s muted. The grace. So you can’t get at too much of it, or your angel memories. From before Lilith….uh. Before that Eve witch Lilith screwed over changed you. You can remove the block whenever you want, but you have to ask Gabriel how.”

Castiel nodded slowly. He had a few of those memories now. Enough to know that Gabriel had been telling the truth before, to remember aspects of the wars he had fought in before. 

“Gabe says….he said you have a choice. You can go now. Get your memories back and go back to fighting that war you were in before. Or...or stay. Here. And...and live a human life, however you want, and then, when you die, you become an angel again, fight the wars. He said it isn’t going anywhere.” Dean looked away. “So. I mean. I guess, when….when you go I’ll...’ he trailed off. He couldn’t look at his friend right now. He knew Cas would go. He’d take the massive power up and go do whatever duty told him to do. 

A feather brushed against his face. He turned, surprised. Cas’ wings were out, spread behind him. Apparently he didn’t need Gabe’s guidance to figure it out at all.

When Dean looked at him, Castiel reached out and touched his hand to Dean’s face. “I think,” he said, softly, “that I deserve a bit of a break. I just fought a battle. I’ve had enough of fighting, for the moment.” He smiled, and Dean’s face broke into a hesitant smile as well. He was sitting very close to Castiel, barely aware of having moved closer. Castiel’s wings moved up, to block them from anyone coming in the door. 

“I think you’re right,” whispered Dean. “If anyone deserves a break it’s you.”

Dean swallowed, as Cas brushed his slim fingers over Dean’s cheekbones, his jaw. His gaze flicked to Cas’ dry lips, then back to those deep blue eyes. “Cas,” he began, but Cas shook his head. “No, listen,” said Dean. “You can hide your wings now. You can find someone that…”

 

“I don’t want someone that I have to hide from,” said Castiel softly. “What kind of life would that be?” Dean could feel Cas’ breath on his face now. His eyes half closed. 

“Dunno,” he murmured. 

“I’m staying,” whispered Castiel, “with you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

“That’ll be a while,” replied Dean. 

Castiel smiled. “I’m counting on it.” 

He pressed his lips against Dean’s, and Dean melted against Castiel, resistance gone, one hand balancing himself on the bed, the other slipping against Cas’ hip. 

“Forever,” whispered Dean, against Castiel’s lips.


	14. Ten Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, this is just a porny little piece.
> 
> I have not really ever written smut before, so I am probably really horrible at it.
> 
> Still, I figured I'd give it a go. Probably won't ever happen again.

Dean smiled, when he walked into the bedroom to see Cas already under the covers. The light was on, and Cas cracked his eyelids open just a bit. “You are late,” he murmured. “And you smell like a graveyard.”

“Well, if you had come with me,” said Dean lowering himself to the bed and nosing through Cas’ hair, “you could have burned the ghost yourself and then you wouldn’t care.”

“Yes I would,” yawned Castiel, shoving Dean away, though he grinned. “I hate salt and burns. I don’t like graveyards either. Sam was with you.”

“He won’t be for long,” said Dean, mournfully. “Jess is gonna pop that baby out soon. And Sam’s been swamped since he won the Patterson case. This is the last hunt he’ll be goin’ on for a while.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “maybe it’s a hint?” he suggested. “You don’t have to go on every hunt anymore either Dean. You can delegate that you know. It’s part of your prerogative. As Director.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “What sort of Director of Monster Catching doesn’t get his hands dirty from time to time?” he asked. “A bad one,” he answered for Cas, quickly. “I have to stay in the game a bit. And you are Director too,” he added, pressing a kiss to Castiel’s lips. 

“Mmm. Only because you’d be lost without me,” replied the angel. “And because you need someone to talk the supernatural elements of your organization.”

“I can talk to them,” protested Dean. “Benny listens to me great. And who was it that said that him and Kate working together would be great?”

 

“Me,” replied Castiel. “Though good on you for finding her after you and Sam found that video. And for getting her to Garth and his family. Making her fit for duty was definitely all you.”

“See?” murmured Dean, pressing another kiss to Castiel’s lips, then one to his neck. “We make a good team. You do the managing stuff, and I do the hunting stuff.” 

“Mmmm. Go shower,” he said. “And then we can figure out just _how_ good of a team we really are.” Dean grinned, and pressed himself closer to Castiel, who gave a not entirely convincing laugh, and shoved him away. 

“Join me?” offered Dean. 

Castiel shoved Dean toward the shower. “If I thought it would make you go faster,” he said. “I’d join you. But I don’t want to shower with someone that smells like a grave.” 

Dean laughed, and pulled off his shirt. He wiggled his eyebrows and sauntered toward the bathroom, leaving clothes like breadcrumbs as he did so.

He showered quickly, and walked back down the hall with the towel wrapped around his waist. He chuckled to see that Cas had put his dirty shirt in the hallway outside the door. He pushed open the bedroom door to see Cas, lying in the bed with his head pillowed on his arms, watching Dean. 

Dean let the towel drop from his hips and he walked slowly toward the bed, grinning slightly as Cas stared at him. 

He tugged the blankets off of Cas, lowered himself onto his lover’s still clothed body. He straddled the angel, tugged him to a half seated position. Castiel seemed content to let Dean lead for the moment. He knew it might not last very long. Cas sometimes was very good at letting Dean be in control, but unless he knew Dean really, really wanted to fuck him, he often found himself taking the lead quite quickly. 

Dean’s hands slid under Castiel’s t-shirt, their lips met in an unhurried, but still heated, kiss. Cas’ hands slid over Dean’s thighs, until they cupped his ass cheeks. He pulled Dean closer, ran his hands lightly over Dean’s legs and back to butt again. 

He let one hand wander up Dean’s side, though not touching it much, as he didn’t quite feel like making Dean dissolve into helpless giggles just yet. He flowered kisses and little nips to Dean’s lips, his jawbone, his neck. His moving hand found purchase on Dean’s neck, fingers slipping into the short hairs on the back of his head, while his other hand squeezed at the flesh on Dean’s backside.

Dean rolled his hips slightly, and slid his hand higher up Cas’ shirt, lightly squeezing his nipple. With his other hand, he wrapped his fingers in Castiel’s hair. He hummed a little, neck tilting up to give Cas more room to operate.

After a moment, he pulled away long enough to tug the angel’s t-shirt over his head. He could feel his cock stirring beneath the boxers, and he rolled his hips again, enjoying Cas’ shudder. Castiel’s hand moved from Dean’s hip to his penis, and he just pressed his hand there for a moment, causing Dean to huff out a half exasperated, half aroused laugh, and roll his hips up into Cas’ hand. 

Castiel was suddenly kissing him again, and Dean was a little disappointed, because he always meant to see where the hell Cas hid the lube in times like these, because it didn’t take more than thirty seconds of Cas’ tongue in his mouth, stubbly chin scraping against Dean’s, when he felt the heated lube Cas preferred to buy on his cock again, Cas’ hand moving in slow strokes in total contrast with his frantic kisses.

Dean had wondered how Cas could be so calm with his hands and so….frantic with his mouth. Cas had told him it was like rubbing one’s stomach and patting their head. Dean had confessed he couldn’t do that either. Castiel had laughed, and kissed him and they hadn’t discussed it again. But Dean remained impressed every time anyway.

Dean’s fingers twisted around Cas’s nipple again, and he reveled in the groan that elicited. He was fully hard now, aching almost, pre-come beading at the tip. He bit at Castiel’s neck, then his jaw bone, sliding his member out of Cas’ hand as he kissed and licked and nipped down his lover’s torso. He mouthed at the erection over the boxers. Dean laughed a little at Cas’ breathy moan. He tugged the boxers off, then pressed a kiss on either side of his groin, grinning a little at the erection bobbing next to his cheek. He nipped and kissed on each of Cas’ inner thighs, left, then right, teasing a little, before Cas grunted at him to ‘damn it Dean, touch me.’

Dean licked a stripe down the shaft, then back up again. He licked the pre-come away from the tip of Castiel’s cock, watching his lover through eyes with pupils blown black with desire and arousal. He wrapped one hand around the base of Cas’ dick and slipped his mouth down the rest of it, as deep as he could go.

He sucked, hollowing out his cheeks and bobbing, one hand keeping Cas’ hips still while the other worked the lower parts of Cas’ cock he couldn’t quite fit into his mouth. He hummed a little, the vibrations making Castiel actually cry out. 

When Cas finally called out Dean’s name, he pulled off slowly, before licking and nipping his way up to Cas’ neck again. He felt Cas move his leg and then they were flipping. Cas had the lube open again, and with one slick finger, he traced Dean’s hole, before slipping it inside. Dean groaned loudly. Castiel crooked the finger, and Dean was left panting a bit. Castiel kissed Dean’s neck, his collarbone. When he pressed his lips to Dean’s mouth again, he inserted a second finger. He moved them slowly, opening Dean up carefully. His fingers brushed prostate and Dean gave a choked yell. 

Dean’s hand found Cas’ cock, and he carefully applied lube to his hand, and then rubbed it up and down Cas’ member in stuttering motions. As Cas moved, sometimes Dean forgot to. Not a good multitasker, really, not even during sex. Still, it was enough, and by the time Cas had a third finger inside Dean, both of them were rock hard and leaking.

Finally, _finally_ Castiel whispered, “are you ready?” and Dean managed a nod. Cas lifted Dean’s legs a bit, and carefully slid inside. He waited a moment, letting Dean get used to the slightly bigger intrusion, and began to move.

They found their rhythm quickly; they always did. They started slow, Cas thrusting gently and carefully against Dean. When Dean started rolling his hips a bit faster, Castiel followed his lead, making his own thrusts harder, faster, speeding up every time Dean did. 

He managed to keep on hand on Dean’s cock, rubbing it quickly now, as his thrusts sped up.   
Dean came with a shout over Cas’ hand and his own stomach. The tightening muscles pushed Cas to the edge as well, and two thrusts later, and Castiel came with a yell, and a small explosion of light. When he collapsed on top of Dean, carefully pulling out, two huge wings were spread over the two of them. 

Dean laughed a little, still breathing hard. He ran his hand over Cas’ wing. He still loved them. They were easily the most amazing things he’d ever seen, and the fact that they belonged to Cas just made everything that much better. 

After a few minutes, Castiel grabbed the boxers he’d discarded and used them to wipe them both down a bit. They could shower in a few minutes, or perhaps tomorrow, but for now, he thought, curling up on top of Dean again, feeling his lover’s, his best friend’s, arms wrap around him once more, the calming sensation of Dean’s hand stroking through his feathers, this was more than enough. It was perfect. He was reminded, just as Dean managed to remind him every day, that he had definitely made the right decision.

“I love you,” he said quietly. 

“You too, Angel” whispered Dean. “Forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And haha, see, I ended on the same word as last chapter.   
> I guess it's their mantra.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is the first chapter of the story I was intending to write the first time. The Prequel just sort of happened. Imagine if I'd tried to do all the backstory in one chapter! Ha. I did try, actually, but things got away from me, and it would have been horribly boring.  
> I hope that this was not horribly boring, as it turned out.
> 
> Also, I do have each chapter planned out. They are all written, in outline form. I shall likely update fairly regularly. Though, unlike the prologue, do not expect the whole thing to be written in two days.


End file.
